


Driven to the Edge Then Slam the Brakes

by MichiMe



Series: The Hunter Network [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2014, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2421977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichiMe/pseuds/MichiMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  After he was named Head of the Hunters Syndicate, Dean knew he was in for a hell of a ride.  He expected professional assassins and prices on his head.  What he wasn't expecting was to find himself on the run from two different organizations under the protection of an outcast assassin.  Personalities collide, long standing beliefs challenged, and in the end, it all mattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It’s a Terrible Life

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: First and foremost, thank you to taken an interest in this story.  
> Second, thank you to my SEVEN betas. I can't even begin to list all of you. You know who you are and you are perfect.

[](http://s254.photobucket.com/user/endohmichi/media/Driven%20to%20the%20Edge/driven%20to%20the%20edge_zpsntk8xwlf.png.html)

There was an old saying that Dean Winchester often repeated to himself: what you see is what you get. He knew the expression dated back hundreds of years, an old merchant’s call only made popular in the United States in the last 70 years or so and had been a personal mantra to probably a billion people but whenever he looked into a mirror, the words always rang true.

Deep, green eyes that contained a killer’s instinct and radiated power, was completely acceptable as the Hunter heir reflected back on him. In those green eyes, there was a stone cold, bone shattering, bottomless pit absent of all sign of warmth or light. As long as Dean lived, he was groomed to assume the position of boss to the massive syndicate. As long as John had been head, he spared no expense in ensuring that Dean would be prepared. He learned numerous languages, tutored in the art of negotiation and diplomacy as a Letter while training to be a killer, a fighter, a Hunter of all the things that went bump in the night, just as John had been groomed before him. He was the first true Hunter Head that grew up knowing all Hunters’ ways and Letters’ secrets.

The man in the mirror was his father’s son. Sometimes, Dean wondered in some fleeting moments of delight if possibly, maybe just possibly, he could have been anything other than the next Don. Perhaps a member of the Society of Letters, like his mother and Sammy. Or maybe he would stay out of the family businesses, altogether, be this normal guy with a white picket fence and a house in the suburbs. Those fleeting moments didn’t last long and he didn’t dwell on them.

He was a hunter and hunters saved people. They fought and won against the dark. They killed those that would prey on humans. They were warriors, heroes, and though they remained outside the civil world, they were an important part of everyday life. They knew the only way to kill a vampire was to decapitate it. Iron would temporarily send away a ghost but the only way to dispel the spirit completely was to salt and burn all the remains. There was too much expected of him to daydream anything more than what was expected of him. He couldn’t dream about some potential alternate life when there were monsters and dangers about.

Squaring his shoulders he stood straighter than he had just moments before, as he took one last look in the mirror at his reflection. He looked the part of a Hunter Boss. His gray suit tailored perfectly along the lines of his body. Dean made sure his antique silver cufflinks gleamed in the light, then he straightened the light blue and navy striped tie. Satisfied with what he saw in the mirror, a perfection suitable for tonight, Dean took a deep breath to quell the nerves that started to swirl in his belly. He pressed both his hands to his stomach just under his rib cage, because he knew, no matter how calm he appeared to be, what would happen tonight would change his life forever. Arms shuffled to his side, Dean took another deep breath and strode out the bathroom.

The doors to the banquet hall swung open. As Dean stepped inside all eyes fell on him. Those eyes remained fixed on Dean as he walked with carefully crafted confidence to the long table at the very back of the room. He was so used to this, all eyes falling on him when he entered the room, and so, not because he was John’s son. He knew he looked good, striking green eyes, a square jaw, soft, pink lips, a straight nose, full cheeks and the slight dust of freckles. He had his choice of women and of men and he did engage in the pleasures of the flesh. He didn’t overindulge though because John drilled into him, ‘Many a bad habit is developed through overindulgence’ and Dean most certainly didn’t need any more bad habits. When he wanted a drink, he drank. When he wanted sex, he got it, from either a woman or a man. The same went for sandwiches or a fight.  
His father and the closest advisors to the Winchester family sat at the longest table with one open chair for Dean. John Winchester was at the very center so he could see all the activity while their political ally and John’s longtime friend, Robert “Bobby” Singer, on the patriarch’s left. At his right, his wife, Dean’s mother, Mary Winchester sat beaming with pride next to the empty chair that would be Dean’s. On the other side of the empty chair was Dean’s younger brother, Sam, the next family lawyer and Leader of Society (formerly Men) of Letters.

John smiled at Dean as he came around the table and took his seat. Once John was sure Dean was settled, he stood with a wine glass raised in his hand. He tapped the glass on the rim with a fork provided by Mary to get the attention of the hall.

Once it was quiet, the Don spoke in a clear, calculated tone that suited a man of his position. “Thank you all for gathering here tonight for this special occasion. As you know, my reign as Boss to this network ends in a few days, on the next full moon in fact. I am pleased to announce that my eldest son, Dean, will be my successor.” John glanced to his heir apparent and smiled broadly, his pride for his eldest son, growing every second. “He will lead this syndicate with the same integrity, dignity, and resilience that I have. Raise your glasses and pledge your word to him.”

Dean felt a surge of pride and triumph when every single person lifted their glasses and recited the ancient pledge. He raised his own glass to toast the succession. He took a small sip of champagne with an assured smiled on his face as he did. It was official now: Dean Winchester was in charge and now, if change occurred it would only be for the better.

Dean worked the room discussing strategies with a number of Hunter Families. Dean found himself in a deep conversation with Bill and Ellen Harvelle, and their daughter Jo, about a recent uptick in Djinn attacks in their Nebraska Territory. The Harvelles wanted to pull a few Hunters from several surrounding territories including the Winchester’s Northern Kansas.

Dean agreed easily citing the escalating war between the Shifters and the Rakshasa on both coasts as the likely cause for the increase in attacks. Monsters on the run normally fled inland into areas where they could hide. This migration stretched hunters thin and made it more difficult to end attacks.

“Make sure your patrols carry silver knives and lamb blood at all times. The more we kill, the less civilians get hurt. Let me know how many Hunters you need.”

John approached and asked for a moment of the new Head’s time before Dean could get pulled into another conversation. The pair made their way outside and into Maine’s chilly night air.

“Do you remember the first time we came here as a family?” John asked as he pulled his jacket a bit tighter around himself.

“A few months after the fire when you were well enough to leave Magnus’ place,” Dean answered looking out over the landscape. Winter hadn’t fully gripped the secluded area yet but Dean knew it was coming. “We had to live here for a few months while the house was rebuilt.”

“This is the most warded place in the Network,” John explained, “since the beginning; Hunters knew to come here when times were bleak. Every family added a ward, offered some kind of protection talisman, and over the years, the foundation, the walls, the roof took in those protections. No monster has stepped foot onto the land and lived. The enhanced can’t see through the walls and sounds don’t escape. I doubt the bunker is safer.”

John let out a long slow breath watching in the dark as the chill condensed his breath. “You know about the legends. How once real Heavenly Angels and Hellish Demons walked the earth and ruled the human race. Humans were under their heels under a large portion decided they were tired of the harsh servitude and sacrifice. These rebels divided into two groups - the Hunters that fought and killed, and the Letters that studied and researched until they discovered the ways to banish both groups from the earth forever. The Hunters forced the Gates of Hell shut then slaughtered any black-eyed demon that remained on earth. The Letters sealed Heaven shut after banishing all the earthly angels. With both groups banished, the groups went their separate ways.’

‘The Hunters continued to hunt and kill any creature that fed on humans. Monsters existed in the world and without the threats of angels and demons, they wanted to be the masters. Hunter families carried on this battle for generations eventually forming a Network that stretched across the globe. The Letters horded their research and kept it away from prying eyes, building secret bunkers and libraries. We still keep these traditions. The Letters have bunkers scattered all over the world. Hunters have their sacred grounds.” John quieted for a moment. “It’s strange for me. I grew up as a Letters but ended up as the Hunter Head. I always thought I would follow in my dad’s footsteps and be a Man of Letters.”

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket then pulled out a small silver amulet with an Aquarian Star etched on the surface. “My father gave this to me right before I went to Vietnam. It was his protection talisman when he was an initiate for the Men of Letters. I carried it with me through the war, and on every hunt I went on, and it worked. I came home. I survived a lot with this in my pocket. I had it with me on the night of the fire. Still say this is what protected us. I’m passing this onto you.”

“Sam should have it.”

“Sam is getting the one created for your mother when she was initiated. This one is yours. You were groomed as a Hunter but you learned the secrets of the Letters.” He patted Dean on the shoulder before he dropped the charm into Dean’s coat pocket.

“We need to work on the Levis. Lilith is creating her demons again. Pastor Jim killed a couple in his territory. Lenore’s nest turned in a group to the Chambers. Lee let her go but I don’t agree with it. I get that monsters don’t want rotten bodies and the stench of sulfur around but we are Hunters. We hunt anything that goes bump in the night.” He mused before he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’ll be so glad when we’re back in Kansas though,” John admitted. “Too cold up here and it’s not even winter.”

Dean couldn’t manage a reply the words stuck in his throat at the gratitude. He nodded and followed John back inside to Hall. Dean never knew what to say in those moments. Instead he just thought about how John should have been an Elder in the Society (Formerly Men) of Letters by now but the Hunter/Letter trade made John Hunter Don and Mary Winchester an Elder. Now Dean was the Hunter Don and Sammy should be named Elder in the next few months if all went according to plan.

Unbeknownst to the new Don, or the Hunter Network itself, another syndicate met that night.

The Levis were the archrivals of the Hunters for as long as both syndicates existed. For generations, the Levis created demons and recruited monsters to help gobble up territory, allies, resources, wealth, and other supplies. They wanted to take over the world, but the Hunters kept them in check. The Levis and the Hunters engaged in an all-out war and at the moment, the Hunters had several powerful alliances and an abundance of resources that put them several steps ahead of the Levis. The Hunters knew they were very close to finally winning the long running war.

The atmosphere within the Levi headquarters was tense with a nervousness that had crept into the suited that hustled around as phones rang off the hook with new and updated information. The pristine, all white room even full of people carried the feel of a tomb devoid of air. Secrets hid in the walls and stole the life of those inside.

The head of the Levi network, Dick Roman, sat in the middle of the darkened room on a plush couch. His arm around a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, light brown eyes, pearly white, straight teeth, and flawless skin. This woman was his wife, Lilith, known for her dedication to Dick, and her maniacal torturing of his enemies. Dick’s second in command, Edgar, sat in a chaise next to the couch with his fiancée, Bela Talbot, in his lap.

All four waited with bated breath for the news of the Winchester announcement. They knew a new heir would be chosen tonight and Dick wanted to know who would ascend to take over the Winchester line. The room grew eerily quiet, the phones stopped ringing, the men froze in their spots, when a messenger burst into the room.

Dick looked up immediately and as his eyes fell onto the messenger, his gaze turned harsh and critical. He tipped the brim of his black fedora up just so the young man could see just how hateful the head of the Levi syndicate could be.

The messenger froze on the spot. The man was a cold blooded snake, and his cruelty was legendary. If angered and his temper remained inflamed, Dick set Lilith to the task of shattering the source, then Dick would scavenge the remains. The messenger did not want to anger the Don but there was no way he could deliver this news without upsetting the other man, and remaining silent would place him in Lilith’s skillful hands quicker than the news.

“So what did the Winchester’s decide?” Dick’s smirk was one of a shark circling an injured seal. He believed John Winchester saw the light and decided to finally admit defeat. The Levis caused enough chaos in the Hunter society within the last year that Dick believed John would buckle under the siege. Dick used the Levi’s wealth to acquire properties, corporations, and people hoping to strangle the Hunters and bring them to fold.

The messenger swallowed down the bile that threatened to choke him before he stepped over to Dick and the entourage. “It’s official, Mr. Roman. John Winchester named his eldest son, Dean, as his successor. He will be the head of their family.” The messenger was very glad that looks couldn’t kill because if they did, the glare that Dick shot his way would have put him six hundred feet under.

Lilith’s lips sucked at Dick’s neck, keeping the man from doing anything too drastic. He fixed the messenger with a less hateful stare before he snapped. “You’re dismissed.”

The messenger didn’t need to be told twice and left as if the hounds of Hell were nipping on his heels.

“Well that wasn’t surprising,” Edgar scoffed with an upward cut of his eyes.

“When I want your opinion, Edgar, I’ll tell you what to say,” Dick growled as Edgar leaned forward, shuffling Bela on his lap as he did.

Edgar, thoroughly chastised, went silent and sunk back into his chair. He wasn’t too keen on facing Dick’s temper so he grabbed Bela’s jaw and pulled her into a deep kiss. With his mouth involved in other matters, he wouldn’t have to deal with his disappointment.

For a while, the only sounds in the room, were men breathing in the background and Edgar and Bela. Everyone else just stood around and stared at the person beside them trying to figure Dick’s moods to see if they needed to flee, grab a weapon and go on the attack, or cut for a hit. No one else thought to voice their thoughts, not after Dick cut off Edgar. It wasn’t until Dick’s fist came down on the glass coffee table in front of the couch, shattering the glass the quiet of the room ended, sending the room into a fury of sound and action.

“Fucking bastard,” Dick snarled as he pulled his bloodied fist out of the glass remains of his table. His eyes were cold and deadly with his body tense. “Should have killed him when I had the chance. Should have put a bullet in the brain instead of using fire.” He stared down at his palm watching the blood flow down his forearm, “now that little prick of a son is the Don. Winchester’s network should be mine.”

Lilith leaned forward and lapped at the blood that flowed down her husband’s arm like a kitten drinking milk. She felt her nipples harden at the coppery taste and made sure to thoroughly bask in the glory. She wasted none, waiting until the flow slowed then stepped before she spoke.

“You know you still could,” she purred into Dick’s ear; his blood smeared over her lower jaw, “you can take their power and kill them all.”

Dick placed his hand under her cheek, cupped her jaw, then turned her head so he could look at her. “What are you saying?” He leaned forward and studied her eyes. She had a plan forming in that devilish little mind. “What are you planning?”

“I’m saying,” Lilith purred as she jerked her chin back freeing her head from Dick’s grip, “we take him out.” She grinned evilly as she ran her tongue over her still pink stained teeth.

“Take out John?” Dick narrowed his eyes thinking that maybe one too many of Lilith’s screws came loose. “What purpose would killing John serve?”

“No, Dick, not John,” Lilith purred as she straddled Dick’s hips and leaned back against his knees. “No take out the new Don. Put a hit on Dean.” Her psychotic smile got even wider something Dick didn’t think was possible. “We put Dean under and whose John going to appoint as heir? Sammy’s too weak to be a proper head. He wasn’t groomed like Dean. The Letters don’t fight like Hunters; they don’t train like hunters. You’ll be able to take over with Sammy on the throne without much effort.”

“And who do you think we should send to kill Dean?” Dick asked only to have a moment of thought. He liked that plan and he knew it was solid. John Winchester might have two sons but really, Dean was the only one suited for the life of Boss. If he could place Sammy into the power position, he could usurp the entire network and bring it under his control. “Who would be the man to kill the mighty Dean Winchester? The Seven Sins? The Special Children?”

Lilith chuckled as her fingers came to the knot of Dick’s tie. She pulled at the silk until the Windsor knot fell open. “Oh no, not one of those low ranked killers. We need a very big fish and I just so happen to know exactly who to call.” The wisp of silk passing through the starch cotton of the collar filled the air. She wanted her husband’s hard length inside her now because planning assassinations turned her on better than any aphrodisiac.

“You want to send in a few of your demons?” Dick smirked because he liked Lilith’s pets. True demons of Hell were barely a whisper of a memory but Lilith found a way to forcibly genetically modiffy humans. Jet black eyes, amazing strength, an unquenchable blood lust, they were twisted, sadistic murderers bent on destroying everything in their path. If Lilith wanted to send some demons after Dean, he wouldn’t have a problem.

“This job is too big for my demons,” she purred. “But the Garrison, well I have a few contacts. I’m sure one of their angels would be perfect.”

“Do it,” Dick ordered while his hands slid under his wife’s plump, firm butt. He stood up easily and Lilith wrapped her legs around his waist. Neither he nor wife cared if there was an audience for this as he carried her over to his desk and sat her down on the edge.

She picked up the phone as Dick reached under her skirt and found the waist of her panties. He pulled down the material as she made the call. Before she hung up, Dick dismissed his men, spread Lilith’s legs and slammed himself deep into her body.


	2. Lazarus Rising

Dean pushed his thin wire framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and pulled at the sleeves of his suit jacket before he walked with great confidence into the FBI’s Home Office. Officially, Hunters didn’t exist but considering that the monsters they fought didn’t officially exist either, some government hack decided generations ago to make an agreement with the Hunters. After so many years of secrecy, the government didn’t want to panic the population at large by letting the truth about Wendigos, vampires, shifters, werewolves, and all the rest, get out so every time there was a leadership change, the agreement needed to be renewed. 

Hendrickson wasn’t the first choice for an ally but the Hunter knew that the FBI had a great ability to ease Hunter investigations. The Hunters needed that official back up in order to protect themselves from some back woods sheriff that wanted to make a name for themselves. Dean knew the relationship benefited the syndicate so he continued to cultivate it just as the previous Hunter Heads. Although, Dean vowed that if Hendrickson ever threatened Jo or Caleb with arrest again, he was going to do more than just break the agent’s nose. 

Dean greeted the Head of the FBI’s secretive, off the official Books, Paranormal Defense and Research Division with a charming smile and a plain manila folder tucked under his arm. “Agent Henricksen, I have the proposal my father and you discussed last month in writing. May I have a moment of your time to sign?” He held out the folder as he said this. 

Hendrickson held out his hands with a smile of his own. “Of course, Mr. Winchester,” he answered before he took the folder from Dean, opened it up, and barely glanced over it. “You don’t have to be so formal, Dean. John was very specific about the details. I know he’s retiring and that you were named his successor.” He flipped up the first few pages before he found the signature page. “The terms of the agreement haven’t changed. Allowing the Hunters to investigate certain unsightly crimes while the Society of Letters research is very much in the State’s favor. Thank you, Dean, for bringing this to me.” 

Victor scribbled his signature quickly onto the form and handed the papers back to Dean. “Congratulations. The continued relationship between the United States government and the networks has been renewed.” He extended his hand with that. 

“Thank you.” Dean accepted Hendrickson’s hand giving the man a firm yet brief handshake. He took his copy that the Society of Letters kept for their purposes from the folder before he handing the rest of it back to Victor. 

“You will take care of the rest?” Dean asked with a hint of suspicion as he stood up to leave. In the past, there were several snafus that left Hunters in prison, committed to mental institutions, or in the middle of a police shoot out without any recourse. 

“Of course,” Victor nodded as he stood as well. “The new badges will be delivered to the drop point on the fifteenth. Do you require anything else?” 

Dean shook his head before he turned to leave. “No, not right now. Thank you for your time, Agent Hendrickson. I know just how busy a man like you must be.” With the contract signed and dated, Dean smiled before he walked out of that office with purposeful strides. He couldn’t wait to get back to Kansas. 

While Dean went about Hunter business, the muscle of the Levi syndicate gathered in a single room. The War Room vibrated with teeth gritting tension while they waited for Lilith’s contract killer to arrive. Dick stood in the center with a neutral expression. He didn’t want his face or his body language to give any insight into his thoughts so he stood there stoically yet he grew impatient. Lilith was on the Boss’ right side with her hand on his belly sensual rubbing against the material of his shirt. She was so excited about her plan and knew it would make her husband delightfully happy. Around the couple stood four trusted allies, Edgar, Brady, Andrew, and Ava, assigned to protect Dick in case something was amiss. The rest of the men stood in silence but it was easy to sense the anxiety among them. No one except Lilith had any idea what this new person would be like. They weren’t even sure of the gender since Lilith had a habit of hiring men and women for her jobs. 

The silence broke with a whisper of a sound: the slight whoosh of heavy fabric as it brushed against the pant leg of slacks that drew closer with every heartbeat. The sound barely above the slight of a breath drew the attention of every single individual in the room and they turned their sight toward the doors. Keeping their cool, the anticipation grew until the heavy doors opened and there, face black lit from the light of the hallway, stood a form that no one expected. 

The form moved into the light and the crowd seemed disappointed in his appearance. While the man was tall, he wasn’t overly so, perhaps just under or right at, six feet. His clothing looked somehow wrinkled and unkempt as if this man was an office worker who stayed out too late at a bar and returned to work in the ill fitted suit from the previous day. He didn’t seem to have a lot of muscle mass either thanks to the tan overcoat that hung loosely around his sides. 

However, it wasn’t the rumpled clothing that made the men worry. The man’s facial features were more the male model/actor type and his hair had that just rolled out of bed appearance. There was traces of a five o’clock shadow even though it was early morning across the square jaw and slight cleft chin. The skin, beautifully tan in color, was unmarred so unlike those of the muscle. He would look young and unassuming if not for the striking, deep, blue of his eyes that seemed to immediately take in then catalogue into memory, the faces in the room. 

As the man walked through the crowd, his gaze remained focused on Dick and Lilith but all sensed that this man had already searched out and found their physical weaknesses. If push came to shove, this man would emerge alive, well, and very much bloody, without leaving around any witnesses. When he finally stood in front of Dick, his eyes narrowed into a studious stare. 

“You’re not the one that called me,” he stated with smooth, deep, voice that sounded like the man ate gravel and glass for breakfast. 

A disbelieving scoff lifted from the crowd. “He’s a waste. How could a fragile, beauty like him kill anything?” 

The words weren’t in the air long before the sound of a man choking on his own blood filled the air. No one had time to draw a weapon, not even the man that had spoken out of turn. The stranger stood next to the fallen delinquent with a satisfied smirk on his face and this strange, bright blue glow in his eyes. A pearl handled knife had been embedded into the men’s bloodied chest before the assassin pulled out the knife and wiped the blade off with the sleeve of the fallen man’s shirt and then there was silence.  
The man in the trench coat stood up straight and glared at the brawn. “Anyone else care to question my abilities?” The glow ebbed away leaving just intense, almost supernatural blue irises for the man’s eyes. 

One of the goons, a friend to the fallen man, looked up, confused and incredulous, sputtered. “What? How did that happen? I was watching you the whole time and I missed that.” He looked around the room to see if anyone else was as shocked as he was at this turn of events. He was not the only one for sure since no one else spoke a single word.  
Lilith smiled broadly knowing she witnessed a rare and impressive kill. She turned and found her husband wearing one of his rare ‘oh this will be fun’ grins. She took the file that Dick kept in front of him on the desk and walked over to her hired man, her stiletto heels clacking on the tile floor. 

“That was a very pleasing display, Mr. Drazen,” she complimented making sure to add a seductive little moan at the end, “I am sure you will have no problems resolving our little situation.” She passed the hitman the file then slinked back to her husband.

Drazen took the file, opened it then flipped through several pages of what he considered useless information. He paused when he came to several full color snapshots of Dean Winchester taking during various outdoor activities. He couldn’t see the entire face because most of the pictures were profiles. Even with that, Drazen had his target and while he might have looked on the one snapshot of Dean playing soccer shirtless in a park a bit longer than normal, he knew this would be a simple job and wouldn’t take long. 

“Doesn’t look like much,” he acknowledged when his eyes raised to the Romans. “Your problem will be resolved by the morning.” 

Drazen closed the file then tucked it under his arm more for show than anything else. He had already stored all the information away in his mind but the clients always seemed more at ease when he took the paperwork along. He left after he shook hands with Dick Roman to search out his target. 

Not knowing he was an assassin’s target, Dean sat at his kitchen table with stacks of manila folders, thick plastic binders, and ledgers piled around him as he went over contracts, bank statements, business proposals, and receipts. This was part of his nightly routine, and he was glad to have a home of his own where he could spread out his materials and burn the midnight oil without being disturbed or disturbing someone else. Dean understood that being a hunter didn’t come with a paycheck or health insurance, and even though they had secret governmental support, the network needed money to run. The network established a number of traditional businesses and used them for profits. The Harvelles owned a bar called the Roadhouse in their Nebraska territory. Bobby and Karen Singer ran Singer Salvage in South Dakota. Rufus Turner built a camp ground in Vermont, and John owned Winchesters Tire and Auto in their home town of Lawrence, Kansas. Hunters legally owned hotels, magic shops, pawn joints, herbal remedy stores, bakeries, and coffee shops across the nation and used those businesses to launder money from the illegal dealings. 

He remembered being a young boy no older than seven or eight sneaking out of bed to watch his father at his own table, checking over the numbers of the businesses and deals that his family controlled. His father caught him up well past his bedtime with the rest of his family asleep and Dean thought John would punish him. Instead, John Winchester picked up his son, sat Dean on his lap, and explained what each paper meant. In the morning, Mary found John asleep in that kitchen chair with Dean snuggled against his father’s chest. 

Now it was Dean’s turn to stay up well into the night with his father and mother asleep soundly a few blocks away. He nibbled on popcorn with a beer at his side as he compared a bank statement to his checkbook ledger and the school tuition receipts. His father mentioned something after the banquet about missing money from Sam’s educational fund and Dean wanted to track that down. So far, he hadn’t found anything from the school but he still had four months worth of bank statements to work through. He finished the last sips of his beer before he folded a tuition receipt in half and placed it back in the proper envelope. He sighed as he stood up, walked over to the sink, rinsed out the bottle, deposited it into the recycling bin, then rolled his shoulders before he put both arm behind his back and stretched. He heard his shoulder pop then rolled them again getting a bit of the stiffness out. 

Dean moved to the refrigerator, opened it up, and grabbed another beer. He needed to find the missing money tonight before Sam went back to Stanford. Dean glanced at the bay window into his darkened back yard and decided that his work could be done in the fresh, crisp, night, air instead of in the kitchen. He flipped on the patio lights, before he grabbed all the paperwork for Sam’s accounts and walked outside. He smiled when the scents from his mother’s garden filled his nose. He slid into the ancient rocking chair made by Mary’s father, propped his feet up onto the patio railing, and set his beer down on the small table. 

Drazen’s ocular enhancements flared to life with a series of blue squares lighting in sequence around the outer edge of the iris while a thin white line circled his pupil. He tracked Dean’s every move from the deepest shadows of the garden. He wanted to observe this man, to make sure the Hunter didn’t have some hidden weapon before he struck. He studied the man carefully, keeping to the shadows until he knew for sure he could complete his mission. From this spot behind a hearty apple tree, his eyes followed every moment, searching for a weakness while his gloved hand, standard in order not to leave any fingerprints, reached for the handgun kept in the inside pocket of his coat.  
His plan was to move in quickly, kill Dean, then disappear without a trace. He had perfected this part of the plan, going in for the kill before his prey realized he was there. Unfortunately, there was a healthy expression about what happens to the best-laid plans. He kept to the shadows moving without making any sounds or disturbing the garden as he crossed the lawn once he was sure Dean’s attention was wrapped up in his papers. He came around to the side of the house and was at close range. He drew his gun, aimed for Dean’s head only to pause when his target turned and looked him dead in the eyes. 

Drazen’s vision tunneled as the breath rushed from his lungs while the earth shifted under his feet. His weapon fell free from his hand, the muscles loose at the sight of a ghost from his past. The world froze in that instant as the wide, jade green eyes of his former lover bore into him. He remembered the feeling of pink, pouty lips against his skin. 

“Erik?” He called out in his native Russian. Those soft yet sharp facial features of youth matured into a ruggedly, handsome man. He didn’t know how Erik could be in front of him now. 

The sound of the man’s deep, gravelly voice pierced the silence of the night and Dean moved. He tackled the strange man to the ground. “What the hell?” He shouted trying to figure out where the guy came from in the first place. 

Drazen’s eyes went wide as the tackle brought him back to the present. He was on a mission, assigned to kill Dean Winchester and now he was under the muscular broad frame on his intended target. He brought up his hands in surrender knowing that if given the chance, if he made the wrong move, Dean would kill him. He mentally cursed himself for the momentary lapse into nostalgia which never happened to him, not once in all his years as an assassin. 

Dean smirked to himself from on top of the other man. He figured this guy was a hired gun sent by some, as yet to be discovered, rival family to kill Dean. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to end me,” he hissed into the man’s face. 

Drazen looked up at Dean, unsure of just what the procedure would be in a situation like this. He hadn’t been seen by a target before and the closet a target ever got was the loose lipped stripper that he had been assigned to kill. He shot her before her first dance in the back of the club where she worked because the customer wanted to see her fall.

He mentally flipped through Dean’s file and retorted. 

“Would you like me to try again? I’m sure I will do better next time.” 

“What the hell? Are you trying to make a joke?”

“This is not the time for jokes.” 

“I know that!” 

Drazen needed to get control of the situation. He had a job to do and being this close to Dean drove his bionic enhancements into overdrive. Dean’s scent, old leather, gun oil and powder, filled his nose. The bionics melded Dean onto Erik and that made it increasingly difficult to concrete. A dull, blue light flitted around his pupils as his implants powered down. 

“You’re enhanced?” Dean heard the rumors of back alley, black market, highly dangerous practice of cybernetic modifying people. He didn’t think it happened but here was living proof. He pressed the barrel of his gun to Drazen’s forehead. 

“Angel or Demon?” Dean knew the rumors of ‘angel’ - humans that willing gave themselves over to cybernetic enhancements. The Letters knew very little about these human ‘angels’, and the Hunters didn’t believe they existed. Hunters believed no one would willingly give themselves over for enhancement.

“Angel,” he ground out. “My implants don’t cause black smoke to spill out my mouth.” 

Dean stared down at the funny man before he hauled the man to his feet. He needed a better look at the intruder and he needed to figure out just what to do with this idiot. He dragged the would be attacker into the light of the patio, picking up the discarded gun as he did, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat. His assassin had traces of a five o’clock shadow across an angular, sharp lower jaw, a strong chin with a slight cleft, what Jess called amazing dick sucking lips, and smooth, unblemished skin. He looked to be Dean’s age, maybe a year or two younger, and if not for the intense, ocean blue eyes, and the fact that the guy just tried to kill him, he would have thought the man unassuming and not a threat. 

“So now assassins are the boy band type?” Dean asked with the gun pointed at the man’s chest. “Because I have to admit you’re not what I was expecting. You look like you just stepped off a boy band album cover.” 

Drazen cocked an eyebrow still trying to figure out how he could escape and complete his mission. He bought himself some time by continuing the conversation. “And just what do you expect in an assassin? Some twisted old man in a three piece suit? Some busty, sexy beauty slinking up in a skin tight dress?” 

Oh those words flipped a switch inside Dean’s head. Dean loved that deep, baritone voice, so much so that he decided right then not to immediately kill this man. He could talk for a bit, find out some information then he would decide the man’s fate. Maybe this night wouldn’t be a bust if he could figure out how much the mystery man had been paid and see if he could have a little fun before he ended it. 

“Someone that doesn’t look like he just stepped off of a boy band cover for one,” Dean responded as he yanked the man toward the rocker then threw said guy into the seat, “and someone that doesn’t look like a strong wind would blow them over.” 

Drazen briefly glanced down his body trying to figure out what Dean meant by any of that. He knew he was attractive, but what exactly did he mean about the strong wind comment? “A strong wind doesn’t knock me over,” he stated. 

That caused Dean to chuckle once with a slight shake of his head before his face broke into a full on smile. It didn’t make him lower the weapon though because Dean wasn’t stupid and if this guy got that close, Dean needed to keep his eyes on him. 

“Funny guy,” Dean gave his full attention to the man in the chair, “didn’t know assassins had a sense of humor. Sorta thought all of you guys were a big bag of dicks.” He tightened his grip on the gun as he leveled it at Drazen’s head. “Now you’re going to give me some information. What’s your name, and who sent you?” 

Drazen glared back at Dean. There was no way in Hell, the target would be getting his name but as for who bankrolled this job, well if Dean offered him something, he might just give that up. He straightened his back and focused his gaze on Dean. “I’m not going to tell you that. We both know how this goes.” 

“I don’t think you do,” Dean responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders as if he already knew Drazen’s history. “I think you’re not the type to get caught like this.” He leaned back against the patio railing then repeated the questions. “Who sent you? What’s your name?” 

Drazen shook his head unwilling to play this cat and mouse game with Dean. “Just shoot me already and be done with it. I read your file. You don’t play around with your food.”

“Maybe I want to play with you,” Dean countered. “Maybe I like blue eyed, strange men that come onto my property at night.” He grew serious then. He wanted answers and he would get them. He pressed the gun a bit harder digging the barrel into the assassin's skin. “Now for the last time, who sent you and what’s your name?”

Drazen looked up at Dean with an expression that could only be classified as ‘annoyed, teenager on that boring family vacation without a smartphone’. “My answers come with one condition.” 

“Conditions?” Dean sounded scandalized. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m the one with the gun. I don’t think you should have conditions.” 

“Really, it’s a very simple condition,” he parried with a sly smirk coming over his face. “It’s something that every mother teaches her children. Say please, and you get your answers.” 

“Please?” Dean scoffed the word. “So you’re trying for funny and polite? Let me in on a second, bud. Assassins aren’t supposed to be funny and they sure as hell aren’t polite.” This conversation had gone on for far too long for his tastes. “But if that’s the role you want to play, I’ll play for now. What’s your name and who sent you, please?” 

Drazen nodded at the question before he answered. “I’m Alexis Drazen and as for who sent me, I think we both know the answer to that. Your family has been at war with theirs for decades. I’m surprised you even bothered to ask.” 

“What the hell kind of name is that?” Dean snapped temper flaring at the idea of the Levis sending someone like this after him. “You just gave me an alias?”

Alexis smirked impressed and quite envious of Dean’s intense focus. If he hadn’t lost that one step, he would be on his way back to the Levis by now, his mission complete. “Of course I did. I’m just not going to tell you my real name. I’m not stupid, Dean.” 

This time, Dean cocked an eyebrow before he tsked his teeth. “So the Levis sent you?” He was so tired of that stupid, ass hat, family that he wanted to triple Drazen’s pay and make him go after Dick Roman and company. 

“Don’t they ever give up?” He hissed. 

Drazen tilted his head to the side. “So I’m not the first person they sent after you?” 

“Not be a long shot,” Dean snapped with a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. He thought for a moment then continued. “Apparently they are under the impression that I’m some kind of weak little boy that will hand over his territory at the first sign of ill ease. As you have witnessed, that ain’t happened, not now, not ever and if they think that sending someone like you after me is going to make me sweat, they got another thing coming.” 

Alexis gave Dean a true, honest smile. He wasn’t sure why but this American man tugged at buried memories and brought out a part of him Alexis thought he lost. It was odd because he hadn’t thought about the other man in years. “Well, Dean, I can tell you are many things but a weak little boy is not one of them." 

“Now you’re just trying to charm me,” Dean responded with an upward tilt of his lips. “Let’s see, funny, polite, well behaving, and charming,” he paused for a second trying to think of what he should say next, “gotta admit, Lex, I never met an assassin quite like you.” 

“Did you just give me a compliment?” Drazen thought he just entered the Twilight Zone. Since when did former targets start flirting with their intended killers? “Did I miss being shot? Because this is a bit weird.” 

“What can I say, I’m a sucker with attractive eyes like yours,” Dean admitted as his attention turned to Drazen’s mouth, “plus I like your mouth. I wonder how skilled you are with it.” He let that statement hang in the air for a moment before he followed it up with, “I’m afraid that Dick’s plans for me are all shot to hell now. He’s not getting any of our territory, not with me appointed as the next Boss. And from the looks of our little combat, you’re not killing me tonight either. So here’s my question for you. What do I do with you now?” 

“Would begging for my life have an effect on your decision?” Alexis asked figuring if Dean wanted to attempt some kind of seduction, he could play along. Anything that kept him alive and got him out of this mess would be worth a little bit of flirting. 

“So he’s smart too,” Dean smirked as he licked his chapped lips. The night air and the fight seemed to dry them out fast. “Well I should tell you, I’m not planning on killing you tonight but I’m not letting off either.” He leveled his weapon to Drazen’s head. “Stand up slowly, take off the coat and the gloves, then put your hands on the back of your head. I shouldn’t have to tell that sudden moves will get you dead.” 

Alexis slowly stood but he kept his hands out palms up so Dean could see what he was doing. “While I am grateful you’re not shooting me, the gloves stay on.” He shrugged off his overcoat letting the heavy material fall to the ground. He put his hands behind his head as instructed not wanting to press his luck. “You understand, fingerprints and all. So do I die now or not?” 

Dean glared at the assassin, but decided he liked Drazen’s gloved hands behind his head where he could see them more than his bare hands not so, he gave the contract killer his request. Now that the over coat was off, Dean could properly make out Drazen’s frame and he had to admit, he didn’t want to put a hole in that body. The assassin was slightly slimmer in the shoulders and chest than Dean and Dean knew the assassin wasn’t the type he could easily dismiss. 

“I’ll give you a little piece of information,” Dean began with a haughty, lewd grin on his face, “killing you serves no purpose other than making more work for myself, and I don’t need that right now. My position in my syndicate is irrefutable so your death wouldn’t raise my ranking. Plus if I kill you now, I’m sure Dick would just hire someone else to kill me. I’m not looking to put a target on my family or my men’s heads.” 

“So I’m basically worth nothing to you?” Drazen fumed wrinkling up his nose as if he smelled something vile. For some reason, the idea that his death meant nothing irked him. He was a highly trained assassin, a cybernetically enhanced elite, and Dean just insulted him by saying he was worth nothing? 

“Didn’t say you aren’t worth something to me,” Dean answered with a cheeky grin before he stepped on step closer to Drazen then with one hand, reached out and unbuckled the thick leather belt and yanked the accessory out of the loops. “I just don’t want to deal with the ramifications of murdering you at the moment. Do you know how long it takes to dig a grave then bury a body? And that’s if I don’t have to look for somewhere to bury you. It’s murder on the back and legs as well. Plus, have you ever tried to explain to over one hundred businesses why they were firebombed all in one night? Yeah, that’s the shit I don’t want to deal with.” 

Alexis gave an involuntary, weak shiver at the word ‘firebombed’ but didn’t respond in any other way. “Are you trying to get me naked?” He asked after a few breaths once he realized that Dean removed his belt which made his slacks fall from his waists to his hips and his pressed black dress shirt came untucked. “I’m not an outdoor, voyeuristic type. I would prefer to be inside for that kind of activity.”

Dean gave a fake laugh at that but kept the gun and his gaze on Drazen. “So here’s a funny, smart, say please, assassin who also has his mind in the gutter. Damn, Lex, if you hadn’t tried to kill me, we could have been such wonderful friends.” He paused for a second to step back. “Considering I’m in my pajamas and the handcuffs are inside, I figured your belt would do to bind your hands.” 

Drazen didn’t respond to that remark only kept his chin lower giving a false sense of submission. There was something about Dean that tripped him up, made him lose his footing, wanted to bicker back and forth. 

“Now slowly turn around but keep your hands on your head,” Dean ordered with the belt looped a few times around his palm. 

Drazen was very impressed with Dean’s level head and did as the other ordered. He didn’t need a hole in his body because it would take a large chunk of his payment to repair the damage. He was going to get paid, he was going to finish his task, and kill Dean, but not right now. He could wait out the young heir and complete his mission in a few hours. 

“The Levis aren’t going to stop,” he reported with an eerily detached tone, “they will hire more killers like me until you are finally in the ground. They will ruin your network, kill your family, then burn it all down just so they can move in and take over.” 

Dean wasn’t too worried about Roman right now, not with a trained killer, subdued for now, on his patio. “Yeah well, if what they hire is like you,” he explained as he pulled the leather tight enough that the other couldn’t get free. “I don’t have anything to worry about. You spaced out, then spoke out.” 

“The next advance will be a wave,” Drazen remarked, “packs will be sent and there will be nothing in the way to stop them.” 

“Have you met my men or my family?” Dean questioned as if Drazen’s little prediction didn’t bother him at all. “Not only will they do anything and everything to protect me, they fight dirty. Waves, wolf packs, wouldn’t bother them.” 

This time Drazen turned his head and looked over his shoulder with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Your men and your family will die trying.” 

“You need to meet my family,” the remark rolled off Dean’s back like water off a duck, “I’m pretty sure my mother and dad can catch bullets with their teeth and bare hands.” 

Drazen turned his head back to face the front putting the gun toting Winchester at his back. He wasn’t sure what would happen next until he felt the end of the barrel pressed his lower back. He turned his head a confused look on his face when pressure was applied and the gun dug into his skin. “You’re bringing me inside?” He could not believe that Dean wanted him inside that house. How confident was Dean’s knot tying skills if the Winchester heir didn’t think he would escape during the night?

“Well I thought about leaving you out here but, no,” Dean answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“So it’s just habit to invite strange men into your home?” Drazen rolled his eyes at that. What the hell was Dean thinking? Winchester would get himself killed by his own hands for that fatal error. 

Dean pressed the barrel harder into Drazen’s lower back making the man move toward the open patio door. “Once again, I’m keeping you alive because I don’t want to deal with the cleanup of killing you and if want to invite some strange man into my home, well that’s my business. Plus I want to see how Dick reacts to the proof that he failed to kill me….again. I think this is the fourth time around, maybe the fifth. Sorta hard to keep track at times.” 

Drazen thought about responding but something about the way Dean pressed the gun into his back while the heir stayed close, intrigued him. He kept his silence, as he stepped over the threshold into the ultra-modern kitchen. He obeyed Dean’s order to take off his shoes and left them by the door before they moved through that room into a den-like living area. Drazen had to give Dean some credit when he pushed the assassin onto the couch. He almost laughed out loud when Dean pulled out a pair of police handcuffs and clicked them onto his wrists behind his back. He felt Dean untie the belt then Drazen was on his back on the couch. Dean bound Drazen’s legs so the assassin couldn’t escape during the night. He didn’t hold back a slight chuckle when Dean disappeared for a moment only to return with a blanket. He noticed that his gun was tucked into the waistband of Dean’s sleeping pants. 

“Do I get a bedtime story as well?” Drazen inquired with a slight shake of his head. None of his missions ever went this far south before and he didn’t know how he could pull himself out of it.

Dean draped the blanket over Drazen’s head and shoulders. “I figured it would help block the light of the kitchen. I’ll be in there for a few more hours so you shut up and get some sleep.” He rolled his eyes as he turned off the den light and headed into the kitchen back to his paperwork. Even though he had a contract killer bound in his home, he needed to find Sam’s missing money. 

Under the blanket, Drazen thought about just how ridiculous this entire night seemed. He heard Dean move around in the kitchen, the scrape of a chair pulled out from a table, then the creek of wood as a man sat down. There was a shuffling of papers then paper over paper. He mumbled to himself. “Well this isn’t how I pictured this job going at all.”


	3. No Exit

No one ever commented that Dick Roman put all his eggs in one basket. While Lilith was the ‘hire the best of the best type’, Dick was more of a ‘send in all the heavy artillery you can’ type. He was holed up in his office, drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him, waiting. Dick wasn’t a patient man, hell, Dick didn’t know what patient meant and he grew more and more irritable with every wasted second.

“They should be here by now,” he grumbled with a sharp glance to his watch. “Where the hell are they?”

Just then a pack of four entered the room all dressed in black suits and white dress shirts. Two women took the front. The petite, blonde with a pixie cut, dark eyes, and a wicked expression stood next to the long haired brunette. Behind them, a tall blonde with ice blue eyes paired himself with another stocky man with short dark hair and yellow looking eyes.

“You’re the Demons?” Roman asked with a once over to the four. They ranged in age from the early twenties to maybe early forties. What surprised him was that while they appeared to have nothing in common, all stood ramrod straight and appeared ready for a fight.

“We are,” the blonde man answered for all of them, “Lucifer, Azazel, Meg and Ruby at your service.”

Dick stood up, picked up the top file from the stack on his desk, walked around to the other side, and held out the dossier. “Here’s your mission. I need him dead before the end of the month. You’ll be paid in full when it’s done.” He wasn’t in the mood for chit chat. He wanted Dean Winchester dead.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” the blonde woman, Meg, stated as he looked over the file. “Why not send one of your own instead of contracting us?”

“I have a professional team here,” Dick answered with his jaw clenched, “but you are the best. Better than any on the record or off the book mercenaries.”

Meg passed the file to Ruby. “Anything you’re not telling us? Seems pretty heavy handed.”

Dick growled because his fuse was lit. He didn’t like these four men and if he didn’t need this done, he would have kicked them out for asking questions. “Dean Winchester needs a heavy hand to be dealt with. Now are you in or do I need to find someone else?”

Lucifer glanced over to Dick then looked over at his family before he nodded. They would take this job even though Dick lied to them. The Demons needed this job to test their collective skills and make sure all the brothers remained sharp. Killing two instead of one would sweeten the deal.

“You have a deal,” Lucifer accepted.

Dean Winchester didn’t go to bed that night. Instead he searched for his brother’s missing money, which he did end up finding around 3 a.m. and he was going to have a nice, little chat with the family accountant before he told his father. Apparently Sammy has himself a girlfriend and they got this nice little house together. The missing money went toward the purchase of that home.

And he had the wayward assassin to deal with as well. He tried to find some information on the strange man but no one heard of a killer with the first or last name of Drazen. The dead end threw Dean for a loop. He needed to know who this guy was and why Drazen hadn’t killed him immediately. Dean walked around his kitchen, a mug of steaming, black coffee laced with four sugar cubes, in his hands. He wanted to know who he had in his house and if possible, not have his father find out about his whole shebang. He sipped his coffee then set the mug on the counter and walked into his living room.

He thought his guest should be awake by now but found the assassin still asleep under the blanket. Dean’s lips twisted into a scowl before he poked the assassin. When the single poke didn’t work, he stabbed his guest in the chest with his finger repeatedly until the blue eyed man jerked awake.

“So that wasn’t a bad dream?” Drazen mumbled as he tried to ease the crick in his neck. He blinked several times before his vision focused on the man above him.

“For an assassin,” Dean frowned down at the other man, “you sure sleep like the dead.”

“Stop poking me,” Drazen snapped before he leveled a harsh glare at the other man, “that is no way to start the morning.”

Dean matched Drazen’s expression before he poked the center of the assassin’s chest one more time for good measure. “Yeah well having an assassin stay the night in my home after he tried to kill me isn’t what I call a good night,” he retorted. “Doesn’t explain why you slept so heavy. My guards wake up if I go to the bathroom at night.”

“No one’s trying to kill me,” he lopped the barb at the Hunter. “Why not take advantage of that and get a good night’s sleep?”

Instead of responding to that, he grabbed Drazen by the shoulders and hauled the man upright. “You kick me, I kill you,” Dean announced before he pulled the gun from his waistband. “No funny stuff.”

“No funny stuff,” Drazen nodded before Dean leaned over and untied the belt from Drazen’s ankles. He was moderately surprised when Dean checked for marks.

“If you want breakfast, you better move,” Dean stated before he pushed Drazen’s feet to the floor. Dean grabbed the assassin by the shoulders and yanked him on his feet. “And be grateful that I didn’t starve you.”

Drazen found himself pushed down into a chair with his hands still handcuffed behind his back and the handcuffs tied to the back. Now he might be an assassin but he wasn’t a contortionist. “Am I supposed to eat with my feet?” He jiggled his cuffed wrists.

Dean sent him a ‘will you please shut the hell up’ glare before he set two bowls on the table along with spoons, a box of cereal and a bottle of milk. “I’ll handle that.” He pulled up a chair beside the killer’s and took a seat.

Dean poured the cereal into one of the bowls then added just enough milk. He picked up the spoon, dipped it into the cereal then lifted it to Drazen’s lips. “Do I need to make the choo-choo train sound?” He teased when the assassin didn’t open his mouth.

“How do I know it’s not poisoned?” Drazen hissed with his head back against the chair.

“Seriously?” Dean rolled his eyes before he stuck the spoon in his mouth and chewed the cereal then swallowed. “I’m not going to poison Marshmallow Puffs. They’re awesome, and do you know how often someone in my family comes over? I’m not going to poison the milk. My mom might need it for pies.”

Drazen couldn’t stop his shoulders from lurching forward with suppressed laughter. This had to be the oddest situation he ever found himself in because a) he was the hostage of the man he was supposed to kill, b) said target was attempting to feed him, c) the man ate Marshmallow Puffs, (what kind of hunter ate a child’s cereal?), d) the same man kept milk for his mother to bake pies, and finally f) the bastard just had to look amazing in the morning with his finger brushed hair and wrinkled pajamas. He hated to admit it but Drazen did like being the center of this man’s attention.

Dean reminded him so much of Erik that a part of Drazen’s mind whispered for him to stop fighting, stop killing, and fall into bed with this beautiful man. To which the sane part of Drazen’s mind hissed and wailed like a feral cat trying to devour those lustful thoughts. Like he wanted to keep the ability to stand at attention when ready he needed to make sure his second brain didn’t rule the roost.

“So Marshmallow Puffs?” Drazen asked with the expression of an elderly Southern woman saying ‘bless your heart’. “The great Dean Winchester, heir apparent to the notorious Hunter families eats a kid’s cereal with a toy at the bottom of the box?”

“Yes, I eat Marshmallow Puffs,” Dean answered with a bit of a growl, “and for that, you can go hungry.” Dean picked up the bowl in front of Drazen and walked toward the sink happily munching on the cereal. When he was done with the first bowl, he dropped it into the sink then walked back over to the table to chow down on the second.

Drazen’s empty stomach groaned in protest and the assassin looked down briefly before he side eyed Dean. “Wait,” his mouth formed the word before his brain got up, “please?” Yes, he needed breakfast even if it consisted of sugary cereal with no nutritional value if he wanted to get out of here.

“And why should I share the greatest cereal ever that is Marshmallow Puffs with someone that apparently cannot see the awesomeness in ‘a kid’s cereal with a toy at the bottom of the box’?” Dean arched his left eyebrow in triumph quoting back Drazen’s slight. He wasn’t sure when the assassin last ate but from the sound of the stomach, it had to be at least twelve hours ago.

Alexis gritted his teeth as he squirmed in his chair. “Because I’m hungry, damnit!”

Dean chuckled triumph before he set the bowl in front of Drazen’s chair then took back his seat. This time after he dipped the spoon into the cereal and lifted it to the assassin’s mouth, the man opened his lips allowing Dean to feed him. “Good boy,” Dean teased.

“I am not a small child or a dog,” Drazen snapped after he swallowed down his breakfast. “Don’t ‘good boy’ me.”

“You are a testy little man, aren’t you?” Dean questioned with a second spoonful of cereal pushed against Drazen’s lips. “And why is the Garrison working with the Levis? I thought the Garrison only worked for governments. We have to work on the honesty,” he continued once Drazen’s lips closed around the spoon.

Those blue eyes widened in surprise with a spoon dangling from in between his lips. No one had ever found out that Drazen was a part of the Garrison so quickly and he wasn’t sure what would happen now. He sputtered the spoon in between his teeth, the metallic taste pressing against his tongue. He probably would have choked if Dean hadn’t pulled the spoon out from between his teeth and gave him a few pats on the back.

“Shocked ya then, didn’t I?” Dean remarked with a wise guy smirk and a cocky tsk.

“How the hell?” Drazen curled up his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. He pulled at the cuffs wanting to be anywhere but here.

“Not that difficult,” Dean held up one hand and motioned like it was nothing for him to find out the truth. “Don’t have your real name yet but I’m sure someone knows who you are and would be willing to tell me.”

Drazen tensed at that. He was certain that Winchester already put out the lines to get his information and if the wrong person, a former associate, lover, friend, family member of a target for instance, got hold of him, Drazen was sure it wouldn’t be pretty. He had to know just what exactly Dean had in store for him.

“What exactly are you planning on doing with me?” He questioned hoping that Dean wasn’t about to kill him after breakfast or handing him over to one of his former clients.

“Keeping you alive,” Dean announced calmly spooning another potion of cereal into his mouth, “you’re worth more that way. Plus I would love to uncover the secrets under the coat.” He glanced over to the bar where a tan trench coat laid tucked against the wall. “How do you walk around without setting off metal detectors? That thing is a menace.”

“What the hell are you going to do to me?” Drazen shouted the cool, calm façade melting away at the jumble of thoughts dancing around in his head. “You can’t keep me here forever!” He tugged on the handcuffs thinking he could dislocate his thumb and be free.

Dean dropped the spoon into the cereal bowl then turned in his chair and placed his hands on Drazen’s shoulders. “Calm down. I’m not going to tell you my secrets but I meant it, I don’t plan on killing you. You are more valuable alive than dead. Now stop struggling. My father made that chair. You break it, I break you.”

Drazen wanted to shout, scream, wail and fling himself about just to get away from Dean but that seemed out of the question. At that moment, before he could form a snappy response, several of the Winchesters muscle walked in. For a moment, all was still and quiet and then out came the guns. Weapons drawn in unison, all pointed at Drazen’s head or chest, itchy trigger fingers just waiting for the word.

“Well that’s a lovely freakin’ welcome,” Drazen snapped followed by the sound of safeties clicking off.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose then shook his head before he motioned for the weapons to be lowered. “Guys, it’s not necessary. He might be a bit of a loud mouth but he’s a valuable asset. He was sent to kill me by the Levis and we are going to return him. Alive and in one piece but just roughed up enough that Dick knows he can’t kill me.”

“They sent a male model after you?” One of the man scoffed as they slowly lowered their weapons. No one defied an order from the Winchesters at least if you wanted to stay in one piece. “That’s the best they could do? What’s he going to do? Blue Steel you to death?”

“This male model could snap you like a twig,” Drazen growled pulling once again on the handcuffs.

“That male model is currently handcuffed and tied to a chair,” Dean reminded Drazen with a heavy scowl. “Don’t get smart with my people. They can break you.”

Drazen frowned before he felt Dean slip behind him.

“Do not think about running. Do not thinking about fighting me. You might be an assassin but they are trained killers as well. One wrong move and your body gets littered with bullets. Got it?”

“Got it.” and with that, Drazen found his hands free from the cuffs and guns once again pointed at him.

Two men approached Drazen’s chair for either side as Dean stepped away to give them room to work. He wanted to reminded his people that he needed the man in somewhat good condition and not to go to overboard when the windows along the front of house suddenly shattered sending glass shards flying through the living area and into the kitchen. Two of Dean’s men dropped dead after bullets cut through the air and landed in their backs. Machine gun fire filled the air and all living individuals dropped to the floor under the melee.

Drazen acted quickly, hitting the kitchen tile with the grace of a cat before he crawled toward Dean. He figured Roman would double cross him but he believed he would have more time to think of a plan. Now if he wanted to live, he needed to keep Dean alive. He almost got decked in the jaw when he touched Dean’s shoulders but apparently the Winchester heir had some skills because the blow stopped just millimeters from his face.

“We need to move!” Drazen shouted over the confusion. He needed to get Dean out of here and somehow lose the other killers.

“My people need me!” Dean hollered right back covering his head with his hands when another wave of bullets riddled his home.

“Believe me, they can take care of themselves!” Drazen retorted before he grabbed Dean’s hand and yanked the Don forward. “The best way to help them is to stay alive. I know what to do! Now come on!”

Before Dean could protest more, he hauled the hunter heir to his feet. He managed to grab his coat, Dean’s wallet, and slip into his shoes as they made their way out the back door. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he realized the back yard was clear for now. He knew it wouldn’t last and pressed on several driveways down, stealing the orange 1970 Mach 1 Mustang that sat in the driveway.

 

[](http://s254.photobucket.com/user/endohmichi/media/Driven%20to%20the%20Edge/driven%20meeting_zps9vgktttf.png.html)


	4. Heaven and Hell

With Drazen at the wheel and flying away from the scene at a high rate of speed, Dean glanced back to see if they were being followed before he turned his attention to the assassin that less than 12 hours earlier tried to kill him yet saved him from a potential massacre. 

  
He stared openly for a few minutes trying to figure out how the gears turned in that head, before he spoke.  “Why did you do that?”

  
“Do what?”  Drazen’s focus remained stoically on the road without a sideway glimpse to his passenger.  

  
“You know what I’m talking about,” Dean answered before he turned in his seat and thumbed backward.  

  
“You didn’t kill me for one,” Drazen answered quickly with his attention on the road ahead, “and two as long as you’re alive, whoever else Dick assigned to this, will have their focus on you.  We need one another if we want to survive.”  

  
Dean didn’t like the sound of that.  He needed to get back to his family and warn them of an upcoming attack. “So when you said more would come,” he paused to study his forced companion, “you knew didn’t you?”  

  
“Dick Roman isn’t the type to let his wife hire a hit man and not have some kind of backup plan,” Drazen admitted with a rueful smirk.  “I know how this works right down to the last drop.  I’m surprise how easy it was to escape the beginning.”  

  
“The beginning?”  Dean hated the idea of running as well but right now, he was trapped in a speeding car with a clever man.  “You can’t mean there’s more of that along the way?”  

  
“Oh there is much more of that along the way,” Drazen answered in that ‘I do this every day and it’s boring now’ tone.  “Dick likely hired the Demons and those fuckers are nothing if not persistent.  No doubt they have been hired to kill you and I’m just a bonus.”  

  
“I need to warn my family,” Dean insisted with his eyes glancing to the side mirror.  “They need to know what’s going on.  They need to be prepared.”  

  
“Believe me, Dean,” Drazen reported with an undercurrent of bitter hostility, “they know what’s going on.  The minute the first bullet went through your home, your family knew exactly what would happen.”  

  
“I need to warn my family!”  Dean’s voice deepened with concern.  No one was going to hurt his family as long as he was head of the operation.  “Turn this fucking car around!  I am not running!  I’m not weak!”  

  
“Right now your family isn’t the target, you are,” Drazen hissed keeping an eye on Dean to make sure he didn’t try and take the wheel, “and running keeps you alive, which in turn keeps them alive, then that is exactly what we are doing!”  He fumed putting more pressure on the accelerator.  

  
“If my family gets hurt,” Dean warned as he settled into the seat, fuming over Drazen’s coldness, “I’ll kill you myself for making me leave.”  

  
After that, they rode in silence for a while with Dean thinking of possible ways to escape.  He could over power the assassin but something about that idea gave him pause.  He could sense that Drazen hid an incredible power and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to test out the theory just yet.  He was intrigued by the strange man but he didn’t trust him at all.  A few hours ago, the man’s entire purpose was to kill him and something like that just don’t go away.  Dean looked over at the driver, thinking it was time to grab the wheel and hopefully crash the car when the sight of crimson against the stark white of the dress shirt.  

  
“Stop the car!”  Dean ordered his voice booming in the small space.  

  
“We aren’t across the state line yet,” Drazen barked not taking his eyes off the road.  

  
“Stop the damn car!”  Dean demanded before he reached over and grabbed the top of the steering wheel.  One hard yank to the right and they veered off the road.  “You’re bleeding!”  

  
Drazen managed to jerk the wheel in the other direction while pushing Dean toward the passenger door.  “Do you want to kill us both?  Don’t grab the wheel!”

   
“Yeah and if you pass out from blood lost, and wrap us around a tree what do you think will happen?”  Dean roared going for the wheel again.  “Pull the fuck over!”  

  
“Stop that!”  Drazen pushed Dean away again only to notice the blood on his shirt.  He cursed knowing Dean was right.  “Fuck!”  He swore because now that he was aware of the injury the pain crept up his shoulder.  He could curse adrenaline and the crash once it wore off.  He eased the car off onto the shoulder of the road before he rolled to a stop then put the car in park.  In the cramped space of the front seat, Drazen realized he wouldn’t be able to get a good look at the wound.

  
“Don’t run off,” he commanded before he got out of the car then watched as Dean moved to do the same.  They stood on the side of the road for a second before Dean huffed then moved to Drazen’s side trying to inspect the wound.

  
Drazen pulled his arm away when Dean tried to roll up his shirt sleeve.  “It’s nothing.  I’ll take care of it once we’re over the state line.  We need to move.”  

  
“You’re lucky it’s not too serious,” Dean snapped before he looked over the hood of the car.  He needed to get back to his family now.  He had to steal the car and drive back if he wanted to make it in time.  

  
“Don’t even think about it!”  Drazen barked as he moved toward the trunk of the car.  “We need to be headed in the opposite direction and we need supplies.”  

  
“What the hell?”  Dean argued caught off guard at Drazen’s apparent ability to read his mind.  “My family is in danger!  Do you not understand that?  I need to know they’re okay!”  

  
“I told you once and I’ll tell you one last time!”  Drazen shouted while he popped open the trunk.  “Your family is not the target!  We are!  And unlike you, I don’t have a death wish!  I am not running blindly into the arms of my killers!”  He scavenged through the trunk not at all surprised to find two shotguns along with a box of shells, a hunting rifle, and a duffle bag with hunter’s camouflage.  “At least your neighbor is prepared,” he mumbled as he shoved the guns and the ammunition into the duffle then slung the bag over his shoulder before he closed the trunk.  

  
“Look you!”  Dean snarled as he stalked up to the hit man.  “We are going back for my family, right now!”  

  
Drazen opened the back driver’s side door and set the duffle on the floor before he leveled a hard glare at the other man.  He pulled out a black leather wallet from his pocket and held it up to Dean.  “I think this would be important to you,” he began before flipped it opened and showed Dean the contents - several faded photos of young Dean and his family , “and unless you do as I say, you’re not getting it back.”  

  
Dean’s eyes widened before his face set into an angry scowl.  “You bastard!  You give that back right now!”  He reached for his wallet but Drazen was quicker and for the next few moments, the pair brawled until Dean finally had enough.  

  
“Give it back!”  He snarled before he threw a punch.  

  
Drazen smirked knowing he had Dean right where he wanted him.  He grabbed the hunter heir’s fist then twisted, bending the arm painfully behind Dean’s back.  “Now you look here.  I am injured and I don’t feel like dealing with this shit.  You are going to listen to me.  You’ll get your wallet back because as long as I have it, I have a guarantee you won’t go running off and getting yourself killed.” 

   
Dean hurled several curses at the assassin trying to break the man’s hold on his arm before he slammed his head back connecting with Drazen’s nose.  He took advantage of Drazen’s momentary disorient to send an elbow into the solar plexus before he grabbed for his wallet and dived into the driver’s seat.   

  
“No, you don’t!”  Drazen shouted before he punched Dean in the temple and shoved him over into the passenger seat.  “Don’t do that again!”  He pinched his nose which by some stroke of enormous luck, wasn’t broken.  He slammed the door then fletched Dean’s wallet again and shoved it into his pants pocket.

  
“What the hell?”  Dean cursed rubbing his temple.  “That should have broken your nose and left you gasping for air.”  

  
“I’m tougher than I look,” Drazen replied before he slammed the car into gear then pulled back onto the road.  He made sure he was at a high rate of speed in seconds so Dean wouldn’t attempt to jump out.  

  
Dean stared at the assassin driving trying to think of a quick escape.  He thought about grabbing the wheel again and sending them into the embankment.  

  
“If you grab at this wheel again,” Drazen’s voice was low, laced with malice, and the ability to make good on the upcoming threat, “I am going to tie you up, throw you in the backseat, and burn everything.  I am not in the mood to fight with you and keep you alive.”  

  
Dean crossed his arms over his chest before he tucked his chin.  He hated this entire situation and he really wanted to knock Drazen’s lights out.  “Are you always going to be like this?”  

  
“Like what?”  Drazen asked slightly unnerved at the low grumble.  

  
“A thorn in my side, a kidnapper, thief, and mind reader,” Dean listed Drazen’s offences carefully.  “And when are you going to tell me your real name?”  

  
Drazen smirked a bit and thought over his answer.  “I’m sure once you start seeing things my way, all of those qualities will be forgiven.  And you don’t need my name.  Drazen is fine.”  

  
“Give me the wallet,” Dean hissed with his eyes now on the road.

   
“What’s the magic word?”  Drazen teased knowing full well it would rile Dean up.  

  
“You can’t be serious,” Dean grumbled from his seat.  He was still in his pajamas, hadn’t slept, shoeless and escaped from two attempts on his life.  He did not need this crap.  “Just give it back!  It means nothing to you.”  

  
“It ensures your good behavior,” Drazen remarked with a pat to his pocket.  “Please you never know, it might work in your favor.”  

  
Dean sat there fuming for a few seconds before he mumbled something under his breath.  

  
Drazen smirked with a sideways glance at his passenger.  “What was that?  I didn’t quite make out what you said.”  

  
“I said,” Dean ranted turning sideways in his seat making sure Drazen heard every word, “please give me back my wallet before I put a bullet in your brain.”  

  
Drazen reached into his pocket, pulled out the black leather object, and handed it over to Dean with a calm, ‘now that wasn’t so hard, was it?’  “And I suggest you split the cash.  You shouldn’t carry around so much.”  

  
Dean placed his wallet on the center console since his pajama pants didn’t have a pocket.  “I can tell this is going to be a real fun trip,” he sarcastically announced with his head tilted toward the window and his back against the seat.  “And I better get to drive at some point.”  

  
Drazen just chuckled with his focus on the road.  He found himself pleasantly surprised when Dean dropped off for a nap.  This was going to be one hell of a ride.  

  
Dean rubbed his eyes then blinked as his brain caught up to his other senses.  He grabbed his wallet which thankfully was still in the center console and pressed it to his chest.  “You didn’t stop for gas?”  He questioned when he glanced down at the clock on the dashboard and realized he had been asleep for several hours.  

  
“I will need to soon,” Drazen announced with a bit of a shrug, “there should be a small town coming up.   We can stop for supplies.”  

  
“Sounds good,” Dean answered, his voice still tinted with sleep, “maybe I could get some shoes.”  He wiggled his bare feet against the carpet, “and some pants with pockets.”  He fiddled with the car’s radio until he found a classic rock station.  At least the music provided a distraction so he didn’t have to hold another uncomfortable conversation.  He didn’t know how much time he had before they reached the next town but he needed to gather his thoughts.  He had to come up with a plan to get him back home before the hit men decided his family would be the perfect bait.

   
 _First step:  Call dad and let him know what’s going on.  Two step:  Take control of the car.  Three step:  Get back home!_

  
He smirked to himself as he thought of a number of ways of disabling his companion.  Most of them involved a dirty shot below the belt and a bound man in the backseat.  The mental picture made him smile.  He happened to glance over to his captor.  

  
The man sat ramrod straight a heavy, pained grimace etched into his features.  His eyes were narrow little slits like he fought against a pounding headache and lost.    
“Are you alright?”  Dean managed to ask masking most of his concern.  

  
“Apparently my face did not like meeting the back of your head,” Drazen explained before he pinched the bridge of his nose.  He had been fighting off the pounding behind his eyes and the slight blurring of the road for some time now.  

  
“I could drive for a bit,” Dean suggested figuring it might do him so good if he acted more compliant.  He might be able to catch Drazen,  off guard and put his plan into action.

   
“You would drive us back to your parents,” Drazen gritted his teeth trying his damnest to focus on the road.

   
“I’ll keep heading north,” Dean offered gently knowing if the other man kept this up they would end up in a ditch or around a tree.  “Come on, let me drive.  It’s not like I know where we are.  I was asleep, remember?”  

  
“No, you don’t have shoes,” Drazen explained before he drove passed a ‘entering the city limits’ sign.  “But we could solve that momentarily.”  He pulled into the gravel drive of a pop and mom depilated service station.  “Do not even think about running.”  He leaned into the backseat to grab his trench.  He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and clinched one bracelet around Dean’s wrist and the other to the steering wheel before Dean could fight.    

  
“You bastard!”  Dean shouted as he pulled at the cuff.  “You come back here right now!”  He squirmed in his seat, red faced, fighting mad when Drazen picked up Dean’s wallet and lifted a few big bills.  

  
“Be back,” the assassin announced before he opened his door and eased himself out.  He stood up and leaned against the hood trying to work through the pain.  Once he was settled enough, he straightened then made his way inside.  He browsed the shelves, grabbing a few bottles of water, and a bottle of pain killers before he happened upon the mercantile aisle where he lucked up and found a pair of slip on shoes that he hoped would fit Dean.  

  
When he reached the counter with his merchandize, the elder woman behind the counter smiled before she ran up his purchases.  He had a good bit of charge remaining but that didn’t include the cost of gas.  

  
“Use the rest for gas,” he explained before he grabbed the brown paper bags and walked back to the car.  He placed the bags on the back seat, grabbed the bottle of painkillers, popped the top, and swallowed two pills down dry.   

  
After he filled the tank, he slipped back into the driver’s seat.  Before Dean could open his mouth to begin another rant, Drazen held up one finger in that ‘do not start with me’ motion.

   
Dean glowered in the passenger seat still handcuffed to the steering wheel.  “Uncuff me you idiot!”  He jerked against the cuff trying anything to get free.  

  
Drazen leveled a hateful glare at the man before he pulled out the key.  “Maybe if you stop struggling and act your damned age, I would,” he fumed since the pain killers hadn’t kicked in.

   
Dean for once did as he was told and simmered down.   He found his wrist free a few seconds later.  “Thank you,” he grumbled with a slight rub of his wrist. “I can drive you know.”  Dean offered noting the way the assassin kept his eyes only barely open.  “You don’t look to be in the best of shape.”  

  
“I’m fine,” Drazen snapped only to grimace again with his head going back against the seat.  “Give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”  

  
“You don’t look fine,” Dean admitted softly before he placed both hands on the dash, “look I’ll agree to drive north until the state line.  Then I’ll take the first off ramp that sends us west.  I can see the road clearly and I’m guessing you’re having trouble focusing right now.”

  
Drazen admitted that Dean had a point.  He could turn the car around and head back in the opposite direction but without a firm starting point, Dean would more likely just get them lost if he attempted.  “Okay but at the first sign you try something funny….”

  
“I’m sure you’re more than capable of grabbing the steering wheel,” Dean rolled his eyes before he slowly went to the door handle, “now do you want me to drive or not?”  

  
“Drive,” Drazen answered with a nod before he pulled the keys out of the ignition, got out the driver’s seat, then rounded the car to the passenger side.  

  
Dean slid into the driver’s seat before Drazen opened the passenger door and eased into the seat.  They sat like that for only a few seconds before Drazen reached into the backseat and dug through the paper bags until he found the shoes then handed them to Dean.  

  
“When we reached a bigger town, we’re abandoning this car and getting you some clothes,” Drazen relied the information quickly while Dean put on his shoes.  He handed the keys over with his head against the rest but he wasn’t about to trust Dean so easily.  He reached for the handcuffs in his pocket only to have Dean jerk away as far as possible.

   
“I am not driving handcuffed,” Dean growled leaving no room for argument.  

  
“Yes you are,” Drazen replied before he snapped one cuff onto his own wrist then the other onto Dean’s right wrist.  “Now I know you can’t crash the car and leave me to die.”    
“I wasn’t going to do that anyway,” Dean grumbled before he eased the keys into the ignition then started the engine.  He kept his right hand off the wheel because of the cuff but Dean drove one handed easily enough.  “And I still don’t know your name.  I keep calling you Draze in my head.”

   
“Then keep calling me that,” the man replied tiredly, “my name is not of import.”

   
“It is to me,” Dean complained before he put the car in gear then pulled away from the stop and onto the road.  

  
“Don’t cause an accident,” Drazen explained with his eyes closed and his head against the window.  

  
“My driving skills are not demonic,” Dean explained as he drove down the road eyes on the road.  He wiped around a slow moving van a bit too sharply then swerved into the correct lane to avoid an oncoming car.  “Sorry about that,” he mumbled when the rapid motion jerked Drazen awake.  

  
Drazen grabbed the dashboard with his free hand and pressed a closed fist to his chest.  He almost fell asleep before he felt the car shift.  He was alert now even though his head felt ready to split apart.  “Don’t do that again.”  

  
“Don’t plan on it,” Dean admitted before he opened his hand and felt the assassin’s heart racing.  He slipped his hand over Drazen’s with a slight smile.  “I am normally a very good driver.”  

  
“I am sure you are,” Drazen answered before he settled back into the seat, “just keep your eyes on the road but be on the lookout for a town.”

  
“Got it,” Dean grinned before he pressed down on the accelerator.   “It might be a good idea if you get some sleep.  I’m sure your head would appreciate it.”  

  
Drazen nodded again before he rested his hands on his lap.  He eased his fingers in between Dean’s and laced them together.  “This way your arm doesn’t fall asleep.”  He offered at Dean’s raised eyebrow.    
  



	5. My Bloody Valentine

Dean drove until just after sunset when they came upon a small, rural town that was well enough away from the attack. The town wasn’t much, a gas station, a burger joint, a drug store, and a check cashing place but it would work for what they needed. 

“Drazen,” Dean shook the passenger’s shoulder gently, “found a town.” 

Blue eyes opened slowly blinking a few times before settling on the landscape. “How long was I asleep?” 

“An hour, maybe two,” Dean answered. 

“Pull over there,” Drazen pointed to the drug store. 

They knew that had to stay on the road as much as possible but a quick pit stop would be enough to get some clothes and find a new car. The Mustang would have been reported stolen by now. 

“Are you sure we should just leave the car here?” Dean asked before he pulled the car into the family owned drug store. “What if the police see it?” 

Drazen cocked an eyebrow before he leaned over and unlocked the cuffs. “There’s no local police force. Most likely the county sheriff’s office handles the criminal element and considering where we are, we’ll be gone before they find it.” 

“So food or supplies first?” Dean asked with a glance to the drug store then the burger joint. 

“Supplies,” Drazen answered before he opened his door, “stay close. I do not want to run after you.” 

Dean followed easily enough knowing that he had an opportunity to make a call. He glanced around searching for a break while Drazen grabbed the supplies they needed: a first aid kit, more water, bandages and a bottle of disinfectant. He glanced over his shoulder once he picked up what he wanted and realized that Dean had wandered off. Scowling he took off to search for the hunter heir. He let out relieved breath when he found Dean in the men’s personal care aisle with two bottles of shaving cream in his hands debating on which one he should get. 

“Sensitive skin,” Drazen grabbed the can from Dean before he tossed it into the hand basket then went about grabbing a razor, soap, toothbrushes, deodorant, shampoo, and toothpaste. The assassin knew they would have to stop at times and it would be easier for them to blend in if they looked like two guys on a road trip but with their clothes, it would be a problem. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked as he eyed the other man as they made their way to the checkout counter. 

“Getting what we need for our road trip,” he answered while the young girl behind the counter rang up their purchases. Drazen paid and the two walked over to the burger joint, the bag of supplies in hand. 

The assassin picked a booth that allowed him to have a proper view of the doors and put his back to a solid wall. He scanned the menu and watched Dean’s eyes glide over the options. At least the hunter heir didn’t wrinkle his nose at the options like Drazen expected him too. 

“I know this isn’t what you’re used to,” he began only to have Dean hold up his hand waving off the concern. 

“Dude, I haven’t had a greasy burger in ages,” he explained with a wide, child like, grin on his face, “apparently it’s bad form for the future head of a syndicate to eat junk food. I’ve been on a rabbit food diet for the last year. Sammy loves it but me, I want a damn burger!” 

Drazen smirked at that before he looked up and found a waitress waiting for their order. “I’ll have a burger with fries.” 

“Cheeseburger with everything on it, gravy fries, and a milkshake,” Dean explained before he handed his menu over to the waitress. 

“You don’t care that you’re going to make a giant mess?” Drazen questioned taking a sip of the water that the waitress brought over while they waited for their food.

“Nope,” Dean smirked before he looked around at the quaint diner. “I miss going to places like this. My dad used to take me and Sammy when we were younger and Mom was with her family. We stopped after Mom found out. I think she was more upset that we didn’t bring the entire armory than the trips.” 

Drazen tilted his head to the side a confused, curious look forming over his face. He was unsure how to respond to that bit of information. “You miss something like that?” 

“Of course,” Dean admitted as he looked around the restaurant again, “it was fun because we weren’t the Winchesters and instead just a father out with his sons.” 

Drazen bit on his lower lip as he processed the declaration. He didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t sure if he should. This wasn’t in the parameters of any mission he had before then again he was normally killing people not saving them. 

“So what’s the plan?” Dean changed the subject. 

Drazen found that this was a very easy question to answer. “Keep ahead of the people after us. I keep you alive so the focus isn’t on me. I do not need anyone after me.” 

Dean pinched the bridge of the nose momentarily. “So I’m basically your human shield until the mess blows over? And what happens when this is over? You going to shoot me in the head?”

“Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted with a shrug. 

Dean ground his teeth together absolutely bothered with the fact that Drazen just told him that he didn’t know what he would do with Dean after this mess was over. He could easily end up with a bullet in his brain if the assassin decided he was no longer effort. He hated not being able to get good read on this man and he just wanted to put his fist through those high cheek bones. He was just about to snap back only he held his tongue because the food arrived. 

“Be back,” Dean snapped before he slid out the booth then hurried to the parking lot. He needed air and someone he trusted to talk to. He wanted to hear his father’s voice and ask for his advice. John Winchester would know what to do in this situation and he could tell Dean exactly what he needed to hear.

“Do not run off like that!” Drazen’s voice came from behind. “You are not….” 

“You’re going to kill me anyway!” Dean snapped as he turned around. “You don’t know what you want to do with me so just kill me now!” 

“Dean,” Drazen’s voice was low and full of something that Dean couldn’t put his finger on, “I’m not going to kill you.” 

“Like I can believe anything you tell me,” Dean snapped before he attempted to walk off only to have Drazen grab his forearm and pulled him back into the restaurant. “Let go of me you jerk!” 

“Just eat your food,” Drazen pushed Dean into the booth in front of the burger and fries. “I will not kill you when this is over. I promise you that.” 

“Like I can believe that,” Dean grumbled before he picked up his burger and bit into it. “You just….”

“Yes, I know,” Drazen cut Dean off before the hunter Don could really get started, “and I was honest. I don’t know what I’m going to do when this is over. I know I will keep you alive. And I’m not going to kill you when this is over.” He leaned over then touched Dean’s forearm. “I promise you that. Now eat your food.” 

They ate in silence for a few minutes basically ignoring one another until the plates were empty and the check paid. Dean stood up ready to go, find a phone and then call his family, and get the hell away from this assassin only to have Drazen grab his arm and drag him into the bathroom. 

“What the hell?” Dean hissed as he pulled away from the other man. “Let me go!” 

“I need you to look at my arm,” Drazen whispered low in Dean’s ear as he continued down the narrow hallway, “and I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed before he found himself pulled into the men’s room. “You know you suck at treating people the way they should be treated. Handcuffs, dragging me around, that’s no way to treat a Don of a respected syndicate.” 

“Yes well, you will have to excuse me for trying to save your life,” Drazen hissed as he shrugged out of his jacket. He rolled his eyes as he undid his tie then unbuttoned his shirt. “Why are you staring at me like that?” 

“I’m trying to figure out what you think you’re doing,” Dean replied with a perfect annoyed teenager eyeroll. “You can roll up your sleeve instead of stripping in a dive diner’s bathroom.” 

“Upper arm,” Drazen stated evenly with a ‘are you kidding me’ look on his face. “And unless I want to rip off the entire sleeve,” he slide out of the garment, amused at Dean’s expression, “this is the only way I can get a good look at it.” 

Dean moved away from the man toward the stall trying to ignore the other man as best he could. He wasn’t about to trust this fucker and he was stuck with him. He wanted to go home and tell John about Sammy’s money and he….his train of thought derailed at the sight of fresh blood on Drazen’s arm. The man must have reopened his wound and from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to be an easy wound to stitch. Since the killer did get clipped helping him escaped, Dean thought it would be best to at least offer assistance. “Let me do that.”

Drazen’s blue eyes widened in surprise when Dean reached for the bottle of disinfectant then motioned for the assassin to turn so he could clean the wound. “You don’t have to do this.” He admitted putting his shoulder to Dean. 

“Yeah well you did save my life,” Dean grumbled with the slight upturn of the corners of his mouth. He cleaned then used the needle and thread from the first aid knit to stitch up the wound. He made sure to cover his work with a bandage. 

With his arm taken care of, Drazen pulled back on his shirt, stuffed his tie into his pants pocket then pulled on his suit jacket before he tucked himself into his trench. He waited until the coast was clear before he walked out of the bathroom with Dean’s upper arm in his grip so the hunter heir wouldn’t do something stupid like run. 

Drazen walked them over to the Mustang and quickly cleared out the back seat. He handed the brown bags to Dean before he scanned the lot. He walked over to a late model Dodge Charger with red paint scratched and peeled, rusted in places, and glanced inside. The stained, ripped upholstery and trash littering the floorboards made the car an obvious choice. Run down and neglected, it would blend into the back road environments easily enough and the likely of it being reported stolen was low. 

“I am not getting into that,” Dean huffed, “it looks ready to explode.” 

Drazen moved to the driver’s door and lifted the latch before he slid into the driver’s seat. “Get in. We need to move.” He placed the duffle on the dirty back seat then waited for Dean.

“Do you really think it’s smart to steal a car that’s been left unlocked?” Dean raised an eyebrow at the sight of Drazen in another stolen car. 

“Small town, Dean,” Drazen explained before he flipped down the sun visor and the keys tumbled into his hand. “People don’t lock their doors and leave their keys in typical spots. Now stop stalling and get in.” 

“I want to call my family,” Dean replied as he walked over to the passenger side and reluctantly got into the car. He grimaced at the sight of food wrappers on the floor. “My dad would throw a fit if he saw a classic like this in such condition. We are cleaning this out on the next stop.” 

Drazen put the keys in the ignition and turned the key. He was pleasantly surprised that the car started right up, and how easily the transmission shifted into gear. He flipped on the headlights then he eased out of the space then pulled onto the road while Dean leaned in between the front seats to set the bags in the back. 

“Day after tomorrow. You can call your family; let them know you’re alive, the day after tomorrow.” 

Dean jerked upright, banging his head on the top of the car as he did. “What?” 

Drazen sighed heavily as he pulled out of the lot onto the road. “You want to call your family, correct? You can once we put over 48 hours between us and the initial attack. That means you have to wait until the day after tomorrow.” 

“Why?” Dean choked down his gratitude because he should be able to call his family now. “They need to be put on alert. I can’t wait that long.” 

“Your family is already on alert,” Drazen stated calmly as if this was normal operating procedure, “when the front of our house was shot to hell, I’m sure the war drums begin. If any of your people survived that attack, I’m sure my failed attempt made news.” 

“Do you think anyone besides us did survive?” Dean asked as he turned his attention to the road. 

Drazen tightened his grip on the steering wheel and rolled his shoulders. “No,” he answered after a few seconds. 

Dean nodded once not showing a hint of fear. He let out a long sigh before leaned his head back against the rest then slapped his hand against the dash. “Damn it! Those were good men!” 

Drazen didn’t have anything to say after that. He kept his attention on the road and waited for Dean to speak. 

“How can you stay so in control and collected during this?” Dean questioned with his hand over his eyes. He knew how to handle monsters on a hunt but running from angels and demons? He didn’t have a game plan for that. 

“Let’s just say I have done this before,” Drazen answered without taking his eyes off the road. “We’ll get through this. I can promise you that.” 

“How many times?” Dean’s voice was strained and tense. He understood that his life was in danger, that he was on the run with a man he couldn’t trust, but he didn’t understand why the assassin saved him. Draze wasn’t a Man of Letters or a hunter and had no reason to help Dean. 

“How many times what?” Drazen lifts one eyebrow before he leans back against the seat. “Missed a target?” 

“Went on the run with a target,” Dean offered quickly. 

“This is my first time,” Drazen clarified before he glanced over and added, “but being hunted, I’m very much use to that.” 

“How many times?” 

Drazen sighed heavily before he fumbled with the radio trying to find a distraction. He did not want to get into this conversation right now with a man he barely knew. The man that just so happened to remind him of his great lost in so many ways. 

“I’m an assassin, Dean,” Drazen explained softly when the other man switched off the radio, “every case I take, there will be someone else. I am the best but the best is pricey.”   
“So why not get out?” 

Drazen didn’t answer that, instead he just shook his head and stared at the road. They rode in the uncomfortable silence for a few miles until Dean cleared his throat. 

“How do you know we’ll get out of this?” Dean easily figured there was far more to the story than what Drazen already admitted but he wanted some kind of reassurance. 

“Because we will,” Drazen gave a small, knowing smile. “I haven’t been caught before. That’s how I know.” 

Dean seemed a bit comforted in that answer yet he still didn’t completely trust this man. He didn’t even know what his name was instead referring to him with the faulty name supplied. He did feel a better safer though now that he had just a bit of background on the other man. At least he knew what he was doing, which to Dean was always a plus. He looked out at the road. “If we’re doing this, we going to need weapons.” 

“In the black duffle, there’s a hunting rifle and two shotguns,” Drazen acknowledged with a casual motion to the backseat, “it’s something but we need more. I’m sure you know how to use a handgun.” 

The look on Dean’s face could only to ‘are you fucking serious?’ but he didn’t say anything.

“Good, because I know where to get what we need.” 

“I really hope you aren’t thinking about walking into a store and just paying them,” Dean leaned back against the seat and figured he might try to get a few hours of sleep. 

“No,” Drazen answered with a small chuckle and just drove. 

Dean glanced at the clock when he woke up and realized he only had a short nap. The sky was still dark and according to the little clock on the dash, it was just after 2 A.M. He glanced over to the driver and found the man kept blinking and rubbing his eyes. He covered his mouth with his hand and grinned to himself. Now he had an opportunity. He couldn’t wait another day to contact his family and make sure they’re on alert. 

“I can drive,” Dean cleared his throat as he looked out over the road. He noticed that the car drifted in between the solid white line and a broken yellow. “You look beat and I got a power nap. Let me drive for a while.” 

“It’s nothing,” Drazen insisted as he rubbed his eyes. 

Dean rolled his eyes as he shook his head. He knew enough about sleepy driving to know that Drazen was probably about 5 minutes away from falling asleep at the wheel. He leaned over and touched his shoulder. “Come on, you’re not fine. You’re staying in the lines now but I doubt you will be much longer. Let me drive for a while. You get a nap and we don’t end up in a ditch.” 

Drazen thought about for a moment before he nodded then eased his foot off the accelerator. The car slowed and Drazen turned the wheel so he could pull off onto the side and let Dean drive. He watched the needle drop slowly until it reached 10 miles an hour. He wasn’t expecting it when Dean reached for the door hand and tried to push it open. 

“Oh hell no!” Drazen swore before he grabbed Dean’s shoulder and pulled the other man back into the car. “Are you insane?” He managed to turn off the car before he slammed his fist into the hunter Don’s jaw. “Don’t do that again!”

Dean stared wide eyed at the other man before he rubbed his jaw. “What the hell was that for?” He shouted before he balled his fist and socked the assassin back. “You don’t hit the Don of the Hunter syndicate!” 

“The Don of a hunting syndicate shouldn’t try to jump out of a moving vehicle!” Drazen shouted the reply as he grabbed Dean’s flaying fists. “Now calm down!” 

“You let me out of this damn car right now!” Dean exclaimed as he struggled to fight off Drazen and try to get out of the car. “I am getting out of here and going home!” 

Drazen growled low in the back of his throat before he slapped Dean across the mouth then smirked. “You are the dumbest man I have ever met. I am trying to keep you alive! Now stop fighting me!” 

Dean wasn’t buying it and he lunged forward intending to push Drazen out the car so he could drive home. Dean’s plan might have worked if it hadn’t been for Drazen’s speed. He found himself pinned against the seat with the assassin in his lap. Dean wasn’t sure how but the assassin managed to wedge himself in a way that made it impossible to Dean to throw him off. 

“Get off me!” Dean snarled as he struggled to throw off the other man. When he finally got tired of struggling, he settled for glaring at Drazen. “Let me go!” 

Drazen slammed Dean’s shoulder against the seat before he shook his head. His blue eyes shone bright with angry as he growled, low and dangerous. “No way in Hell. While I am sure you think you know what to do, you wouldn’t last a day. You might be a powerful, handsome man that gets his way by batting his eyelashes and flirting a bit, but you are not trained on how to survive, not like this. You want to run to your family when you should go in the opposite direction. You fight me tooth and nail and I’m trying to keep you alive. You just need to trust me, Dean.” 

Dean wanted to reply but his brain was stuck on the word handsome. What the hell was that about? Wait, did Drazen say handsome? Why would Drazen call him handsome? He blinked and then he was back to the matter at hand. “Why should I trust you? You’ve dragged me around, handcuffed me, hit me, and I barely got to drive. You don’t trust me so why should I trust you. Yeah you promised not to kill me but I doubt that. You’re a paid assassin and I’m not a dumb man.” 

Drazen used one hand to reach behind him and pulled a hidden revolver. He showed it to Dean. “I had this the entire time. If I wanted to kill you I would have.” 

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. He had searched the man while he was on his couch and hadn’t found the weapon. Plus he didn’t see it when Drazen was in the bathroom either. “Where the hell did that come from? I searched you.” 

“If you know how, you can hide a weapon where no one would find it,” Drazen answered before he set the gun on the center console under the emergency brake. “Now stop fighting me. My life depends on yours and you need me.” 

“I don’t believe that for one minute,” Dean snapped back before he turned his head and looked out the window. “You don’t need me.” 

“My survival depends on yours, Dean,” Drazen admitted softening his expression to a more business like one, “the people after you, they are not the kind that will accept defeat. And if my garrison knows of this, they will be after us as well. We need each other, Dean, no matter what you think. I can protect you if you stop fighting me at every turn.”   
Dean stared into Drazen’s face looking for any signs of deceit. He needed the assassin to be lying but he found signs of truth and honesty. He hated that the revelation threw him so badly. 

“Trust me, Dean,” Drazen eased his hands off Dean’s shoulder with that and leaned back enough so the trapped man had a bit of room, “I saved your life. I have kept you safe. I know it’s not the way you think it should be but I have gotten you this far. I can get you much further and back with your family, if you let me.” 

There was silence in the car after that except for the sounds of their breathing. Dean stared up at Drazen while Drazen stared down at Dean. Dean found himself trying to ignore the warmth that came off the other man that stayed off the night chill that threaded into the car. He found himself staring into deep blue eyes lined with navy. Oh damn, why did the assassin have to have eyes like that? That was Dean’s kryptonite. He cleared his throat and tried to push those feelings aside. They wouldn’t help him right now. “How can I trust someone sent to kill me? If you hadn’t froze, I doubt we would be in this situation.”

Drazen sighed before he eased himself off Dean and into the driver’s seat. “I promised that I wouldn’t kill you,” he stated softly yet firmly, “when we survived the attack, my mission wasn’t to kill you anymore.” 

“Why did you hesitate, Drazen?” Dean hadn’t thought about that since the moment it happened. He just saw a man with a gun pointed at him frozen in his lawn and tackled him before he could shoot.

“Castiel Angelus,” he answered as a smile crept across his face. “Castiel Angelus.” 

“Who? What?” Dean blinked a few times a very confused look on his face.

“My name,” he explained before he touched Dean’s shoulder, “my real name is Castiel Angelus. Alexis Drazen is the code name my organization uses when dealing with clients. I figured you might have a bit more faith in me if you knew my real name.” 

They shared a smile before Castiel reached for the handle. “Do you still want to drive?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean answered the idea of making a break for it suddenly lost. Something had changed between them in that moment and while Dean wasn’t going to think too much on it now, he decided that he would listen a bit more closely to what Castiel had to say. 

Another smile passed between them before each one got out of the car and switched positions. 

Dean settled into the driver’s seat while Castiel settled into the passenger seat. “We are cleaning this up. At least throw out all the wrappers in here.” He watched as Castiel stifled a yawn before he smirked to himself. “So Cass, I think we both could use some sleep. What do you say?” 

“Cass?” The assassin gave him a sour look before he shook his head. 

“I’m not calling you Castiel, sounds way to biblical for my tastes. Pretty sure Drazen would stand out in conversation, and Alexis is a mouthful.” Dean stated as he turned the key. “So do you happen to know of any inns around here?” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly before he put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road. 

Castiel shot Dean a dirty look. “Just keep an eye out. If you see something, pull in.” 

“You do realize that seedy roadside motels are about two steps down from camping right?” Dean questioned as he flipped on the lights then turned his attention to the road. 

“We could sleep in the car,” he began before he looked in the back seat and changed his mind, “we’ll get it clean before we sleep in the back. First place we find, we pull in.” 

Dean found a run down, cheap roadside motel after about thirty minutes of driving and when he first saw the place, he shuttered and would have driven passed if not for Castiel. The assassin placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder and Dean just knew what that meant. He grumbled as he pulled into the gravel lot. 

“I think this is a horrible idea,” he remarked while the stones crunched under the tires, “this place is one of those hourly rate places. We are more likely to get attacked by a guy with a chainsaw than get any rest.” 

Castiel looked at the depilated building with its crumbling brick walls, uneven roof, a dark water mark from multiple flooding, and rotten doors. “Where are we?” 

“In the middle of a slasher flick,” Dean answered as he looked over the steering wheel passed the motel into the dark wooded area. “Seriously I think we should just keep driving. Find something better than this. At least Jason isn’t going to come after us.” 

“What do you know about horror movies?” Castiel looked slightly amused at the mental picture of this hot shot hunter Don walking bad horror movies. 

“A lot,” Dean answered before he reached for the gear shift, “seriously I’m not staying here. Do you know how many times some wayward travelers get their organs stolen when they stop at places like this?” Monsters, Dean got them but people were crazy. He didn’t know if the hotel clerk had bodies buried in the back or called some hack doctor to cut open the guests. 

“I doubt anything like that would happen,” Castiel answered while he reached to still Dean’s hand. “We could at least clean out the car a bit.” 

Dean glanced around at the food wrappers and trash that littered the car. He knew that they needed a place to dump the trash and organize the supplies. “We only need a dumpster for that,” he grumbled before he gave Castiel another look then got out the car. “If we end up being eaten by a blob monster, I’m coming back and killing you.” 

“We are more likely to be attacked by killer clowns,” Castiel parried before he got out of the car and made his way to the office. “I’ll get us a room if you want to start cleaning up.” 

Dean made a ‘I do not approve of this’ noise but nodded before he opened up the back seat, picked up their supplies, set them on the ground then rummaged through the car, carefully picking up the discarded wrappers and drink cups. He managed to clear the area behind the passenger seat when Castiel returned with the key. 

“We’re in room 13,” the assassin stated before he picked up the supply bags. “Dumpster’s around back.” 

Dean nodded as he gathered up the trash then walked around to the back of the building and threw the discard in the dumpster. He came back around to the front, worked on the driver’s side back seat until it was cleaned before he found the room. At least Castiel hadn’t locked the door. 

“So what name did you check us in under?” Dean asked as he slipped in then closed the door behind him. “I’m guessing nothing that could be tied to either of us.” 

Castiel nodded before he answered. “Jason Teague and Manny Skerritt.” 

“Sounds like boy band names,” Dean answered with a smirk before he looked around the room. “I don’t remember a horror movie with wall paper that eats you.” 

Castiel looked at the peeling wallpaper before he shook his head. “How do you know so much about horror movies? And you’re just imagining things. This isn’t that bad.” 

“That bad?” Dean pointed to a large black spot on the far wall. “Sleeping in the car is better than this.” And he turned to do just that only to have Castiel move so quickly that Dean didn’t see how it happened and grab his arm. 

“We are not sleeping in the car,” Castiel growled as he pulled Dean away from the door and further into the room ignoring the feeling of the slimy carpet under his shoes. “The two of us can’t fit in there and the car doesn’t have a shower.” 

“A hot shower would be great,” Dean groaned as he moved to inspect the bathroom. Strong water pressure at steaming temperatures could up this place up from ‘camping is better’ to ‘somewhat bearable’.” 

Castiel’s mind went white for a moment at the sound of Dean’s pleasing moan hit his ear. He turned his head to the side as a hot blush crept to his cheeks. He pictured Dean nude under the water lathering up his chest and torso. He clamped his eyes shut for a second forcing the image from his mind. Even if Dean looked so much like Erik, he didn’t need the distraction. 

“Cass?” Dean called out from the bathroom doorway. He leaned his head back and looked at the other man knowing something was amiss. “You okay?” 

Castiel nodded without a word before he turned to face Dean again. He walked toward the bathroom intending to see how bad that area looking over to stop as Dean leaned over the bath and twisted the knob. Both men heard a thud before the knob came off in Dean’s hand. 

“Well no shower for us,” Castiel mumbled with an apologetic face. He saw the tension in Dean’s body ratchet up several notches and knew this wouldn’t end well. 

“Oh hell no,” Dean held up both hands then tossed the broken knob in the tub before he walked into the main room. “I am sleeping in the car. I don’t care. I am not sleeping in some flea bag, no name motel, with crappy carpet and I don’t even want to think about that bed. Who the hell knows what’s living in there.” He stormed toward the door, wanting nothing more than to leave right now. 

Castiel followed behind Dean ready for a fight if necessary. “You can’t do this, Dean. I am not letting you out of my sight!” He pulled Dean away from the door by the shoulder. “Listen to me! We are on the run from us of the worst killers imaginable. Right now we are hidden from them and I want to keep it that way.” 

Dean looked back to the assassin before he sighed heavily. “I still think camping would be a better idea.” 

Castiel nodded because he felt the same way. “Yeah it would be but we don’t have a tent and the room is paid for.” 

“I’ll survive, I guess,” Dean grumbled before he sat down on the edge of the bed and made a ‘this isn’t really happening’ face. 

Castiel smiled at that before he sat down next to Dean. “You still need clothes,” he admitted before he pinched the sleeve of Dean’s sleep shirt, “I’m sure you need something other than day old pajamas.” 

Dean chuckled once before his eyes met Castiel’s. This might not be his normal kind of situation but at least he could draw on the other’s experience. He wanted to say something, anything to let Castiel know he appreciated the help only he couldn’t find the words. Something about the assassin’s eyes, the pain behind them that the man tried to desperately mask, the sense of familiarity, made it difficult for Dean to think. As he struggled to find his voice, he failed to notice Castiel reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the tie. 

Castiel took advantage perhaps unfairly to wrap the tie around Dean’s wrists effectively binding the hunter man’s hands. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean snapped out of his confusion then and yanked his hands away. “You can’t do this!” He tried to get to his feet only to have Castiel place his hands on Dean’s shoulders. 

“I can do this,” Castiel easily slid his hand up Dean’s arm, “because I don’t want you running off.” 

“I’m not going to run off,” Dean replied with a scoff, “I don’t need to be tied up like I’m a criminal.” 

Castiel didn’t respond only finished up with the tie and made sure Dean couldn’t work out the knots. He watched as Dean pulled at the tie for a few seconds before his shoulders slumped in defeat. With Dean secure, he stood up and shrugged out of his jacket. He toed off his shoes then bent down and slipped off Dean’s shoes as well. 

“What the hell, dude?” Dean grunted before he picked up his feet. 

“I’m not going to let you sleep in your shoes,” Castiel remarked before he set Dean’s shoes next to his own, “I don’t know if you kick in your sleep and I would prefer not to have bruises on my legs. And we’ll get you some sneakers when you get your proper clothes.” 

“You’re deciding what I wear now?” Dean hissed before Castiel stood up then sat on the bed again. 

“For now, yes,” Castiel arched his left eyebrow.

Dean looked at the rumpled suit, the wrinkled dress shirt, and the trench coat before he rolled his eyes. “Somehow I doubt you should be making fashion decisions for me.”   
Castiel curled his lip at that. “I am more than capable of picking up a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a pair of shoes. I did find you those.” He took the other end of the tie and secured it to his own wrist. “Now you can’t run off at all,” he explained as he pulled on the complex knot. With the tie knotted the way it was, Dean wouldn’t be able to move without waking up Castiel. 

“This is not the way to treat….” He grumbled only to be cut off by Castiel. 

“To treat the head of Hunter Family? Yeah I heard that before and I don’t care.” He rolled his eyes before he leaned back against the pillows. 

Dean tried to make another snippy remark only to squeak just a bit when his shoulder hit the mattress. His throat closed for a split second when he was face to face with the assassin. He regained his voice the second Castiel tugged on the tie and brought their arms up close to their respective chests. He was far too close to this man and his heart fluttered in his chest. He loved the warmth of another person at night. It made him feel respected, and happy. Shit, he did not need this right now. He wanted to be in charge, in control, and he didn’t want his libido to get the better of him at a time like this. 

Dean thought about it for a moment and realized he hadn’t shared a bed with another person in a few months. That could easily explain the flutter of his heart and the way he settled in close to Castiel’s frame. They were only inches apart, their arms pressed together thanks to the tie. He made a breathy moan when Castiel pulled the blankets over them and this tingling shiver went up his spine. He stared into Castiel’s eyes for a moment taking in the dark navy rim that faded to an ocean blue at the pupil. 

Dean knew he couldn’t completely trust Castiel no matter how much the man did for him. He was confused at this situation. The man sent to kill him, saved him instead, and now kept him alive. He retreated into his own thoughts, trying to think of a plan. He needed to focus on something other than his own feelings. He noticed how Castiel’s eyes studied his own and that made him shift a bit under the covers. He couldn’t handle the intense stare so Dean closed his eyes and hoped that sleep would come. 

Castiel smiled after Dean closed his eyes and knew that he needed rest as well. He waited until Dean’s breathing evened out before he closed his eyes and shifted closer Dean’s warmth. He was asleep a few minutes later.


	6. The Song Remains the Same

Dean shifted and grumbled on the edges of sleep when the bright morning sunshine started filtering in through the ragged, thin curtains of the motel room. He squinted his eyes tightly trying to force out the light and tried to sink back down into a restful sleep. He grumbled again when he finally opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get his vision clear. He found himself curled so close to Castiel that their foreheads touched. 

Dean took the opportunity to stare at the sleeping assassin. He thought the strange man looked much younger, gentler, with his eyes closed and his face relaxed. He looked peaceful, less stressed, like the weight of the world wasn’t on his shoulders. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned upward at the sight of the morning sun that created this halo effect on Castiel’s pillow making him look like a sleeping angel. It was quite the sight.

Dean watched the man for several seconds before mumbling something in his sleep. It sounded like some whispered sweet nothing in Russian and for a moment, Dean’s breath caught in his throat. He wondered what kind of person would make this intense, strange man coo so sweetly. He wished he could make out the words but sleepy mumbles weren’t the most annunciated words to begin with. He was just about shake the man awake when the phone on the nightstand caught his eye. 

Dean knew he could climbed over the assassin easily enough and get to the phone. He could call his family, let them know what was happening and try to give them some kind of location, and they can come get him and kick the assassin’s butt. 

Dean tried to carefully slide one leg over Castiel’s hips only to feel the evidence of the other’s man arousal pressed against his thigh. He took a deep breath before he moved so Dean was straddling the other man. He kept his weight on his knees and made sure he didn’t settle over Castiel. He took a deep breath, made sure he didn’t wake up the other man, then very carefully leaned toward the phone. Dean realized this was a lot harder than he expected because his hands were tied to Castiel’s and every movement he made seemed to pull the tie tighter. 

Dean leaned over just a bit too much and felt himself lose his balance. He landed on the floor in a shapeless lump and had about two seconds before Castiel toppled over on him. Dean found himself staring up into furious blue eyes. 

“Fuck!” Dean swore when he heard the other man growl feral in his ear. 

“Dean,” Castiel’s tone was low as he drew out the name in a way that strangely reminded Dean of this one time when Dean was about five and he flooded the basement because he wanted to make an indoor swimming pool. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Dean stumbled to think of something to say. A lame excuse would make the assassin angrier and if he tried the truth, he was pretty sure Castiel would put him in the trunk for the rest of the journey. He needed to say something, try to defend himself but all he could think about what was the pissed off, so not a morning person, assassin on top of him.

“Say something!” Castiel hissed before he kicked his feet free of the covers then hauled them both to their feet. “I was sleeping comfortable until your little stunt!” 

“I wanted to call home,” Dean admitted softly taking deep, slow breaths. “I wanted to call my dad, talk to my mom, let them know I’m alive.” He flushed with his eyes downcast. “I need to know my family is okay. I need them to know I’m okay.” 

Castiel shook his head at that before he pushed Dean onto the bed before he sighed. He knew that Dean would just keep trying to call, putting them both in danger if a call wasn’t made. Just to keep Dean in line, Castiel picked up the phone. “Keep it short. Under a minute if you can.” 

Dean stared at the assassin for several seconds before he took the phone, placed the base on his lap, then grabbed the receiver. He dialed his phone number and prayed that someone would be around to pick up. On the fourth ring, someone picked up. 

“Hello?” 

“Sammy!” Dean exclaimed happily at the sound of his brother’s voice. “Thank God!”

“Dean!” Sam shouted through the phone which Dean quickly jerked away from his ear. “Mom! Dad! Dean’s on the phone!” 

“Dean!” A shaken, feminine voice came through the phone a moment later. “Are you okay, baby?” 

“Mom.” Dean let out a relieved sigh. He glanced over to Castiel quickly before he turned his attention back to his phone call. “I’m okay, Mom. On the run but I’m staying ahead of it.” 

“Do you know who attacked you?” Dean heard his father’s voice in the background but knew that John Winchester would never take the phone away from his wife to ask questions. 

“Don’t answer that,” Castiel growled standing way too close invading Dean’s personal space. 

“Dude, back up,” Dean hissed in reply wanting to talk to his family without the assassin so close to him, “personal space, privacy.” 

“Dean?” Mary’s voice came through the line, full of worry and fear for his eldest son. “Dean, are you still there?”

“I’m here, mom,” Dean’s attention went back to the receiver before he sat down on the bed. “It was the Levis. Dick’s upset Dad handed the reins over to me.” 

“Demons are on your tail,” John’s voice again, closer now perhaps he stood at Mary’s shoulder, listening to their conversation. “Dean, if you can, jump the border into Canada, and go to the Campbells. Samuel owes us and they can keep you safe. If you’re still in Kansas, get to the bunker. A few Letters should be there and we can fortify. I would say try Victor but I’m pretty sure that would get you arrested.” 

Castiel shook his head at the idea. He was not about to head into the unfamiliar territory of a Winchester ally. Staying on the road would be best for him and if he wanted to keep Dean alive, Dean needed to stay on the move. 

“Dad, I’ll see what I can do,” Dean admitted. 

“Is someone with you?” Mary asked suddenly. “Are you safe?” 

“I’m with someone,” Dean answered quickly before Castiel could pull the phone away, “he tells me he’ll keep me safe.” He returned the assassin’s annoyed glare quite nicely before he went back to his phone call. 

“What’s his name?” John asked quite worried about his son. “Who is he? Is he an ally?” Dean could hear it in John’s voice. His father knew Dean well enough to know that his son wouldn’t risk his life on just some random person but he hated the idea of Dean being on the run with some stranger. 

Castiel reached for the phone only to have Dean twist away just out of reach. He narrowed his eyes, made a motion for Dean to hand over the phone but the hunter heir was stubborn and continued his call. 

“He’s an ally, Dad,” Dean began unwilling to lie to his father. He couldn’t betray Castiel either so he was going to keep the information to a minimum. “He’s good. Name’s Castiel. Sorta got caught up in this with me. You would like him. Street smart, knows how to steal cars, good with a gun.” 

“Do you need us, Dean?” Sam, this time, but his voice wasn’t very close. He must have been leaning over Mary and John to hear. “Where are you?” 

“Do not tell them!” Castiel hissed when he heard the question. “No one can know where to find us. We are trying to run from trouble not have it find us.” 

Dean sighed heavily before he shook his head. “I’m okay. I can’t tell you where I’m at Sammy. I’m sure you heard Castiel.” 

“Dean!” Sam snapped in horror. “Sounds like he kidnapped you! We can come get you!”

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean was very sure of himself because he knew his family needed to hear this, “I’m really fine. In fact, I’m pretty safe right now. As long as the Demons don’t find us, we’ll be fine. Don’t be some kind of hero. Tell Dad he needs to stay put!” 

“I am not staying put!” John’s voice boomed in his ear so fierce that Dean yanked the phone away to keep it from throbbing. “Dean, I’m your father! Now tell me where you are so I can come get you!” 

“Dad!” Dean used his ‘listen to me, I know what I’m doing’ voice which he hoped his father would respect. “Listen to me. I’m on the run. I’m staying ahead of the Demons. I will stay ahead of them but I need to know all of you are okay. Don’t come after me, Dad. Stay put, stay safe, protect mom and Sammy.” 

Dean could tell his father wanted to shout only he heard Mary scowled the older man. “He is an adult, John. He knows what he is doing and if he says not to chase after him, then don’t chase after him.” 

“He is my heir, Mary,” John argued, “I need to know he’s well.” 

Dean couldn’t help but chuckled at that. His family was worried about him and for some strange reason, he was okay with that. He glanced over to Castiel who tapped his watch signaling they needed to get on the road. 

“Mom, Dad,” he spoke directly into the phone hoping to cut off any more of the conversation, “I need to go now. We need to get on the road.” 

“You’ll call again soon?” Mary asked with an edge of a nervousness around the words. “You’ll call and let us know what’s going on?” 

“Yes,” Dean answered without checking with Castiel. No way was he going to keep his family in the dark now that he finally got in contact. “I’m not sure when I can call again but I’ll try to call every few days.” 

“Be careful, Dean,” Sammy offered. 

“Be safe,” his father added but Dean could tell the man wasn’t happy about not being there. John Winchester was the kind of man that only wanted to protect his family and do right by them. He didn’t like this situation, his heir, his son, on the run from the Levi bastards with a guy he didn’t know. “And tell the man you’re with if he betrays you, I’ll kill him.” 

Castiel cocked an eyebrow at that but remained silent. No use in making the former Don mad since it would only cause problems. “Dean, we need to move. We stayed here long enough.” 

“Dean, you be careful,” Mary stated with a gentle, loving tone. “I’ll talk to you soon?” 

“Talk to you soon, Mom,” Dean answered before Castiel reached over, took the receiver, then set it on the cradle. “Thank you,” he offered the assassin as he stood up. 

Castiel nodded in reply. “Let me get your hands,” he stated while his fingers moved to the material around Dean’s wrists. He slowly unknotted the fabric his fingers brushing the back of Dean’s hands. Castiel’s breath caught in his back of his throat when Dean’s thumb twitched nervously. 

The assassin glanced up and found himself not in some run down, dirty, motel room but instead in a small, cramped, apartment with a beautiful young man just turned eighteen smiling at him after a long enjoyable night of love making. He could tell from the scenery they were in Moscow. A pair of silk tied wrists were near his jaw and watched as his lover’s thumb twitched a few times. 

“Alexi, You tied me up and wore me out last night,” the smirk on the young man’s face sent all the blood in Castiel’s body down to his groin as the other man straddled his hips as he whispered the words in teasing Russian, “but I’m rested now so we should go again.” 

“Erik,” a younger Castiel slid his fingers up then down the inside of Erik’s thighs, “I have to get to work.” 

“No,” Erik pouted as he squeezed his thighs, trapping Castiel underneath him, “you need to fuck me again. No work until I’m stretched out and oozing from you.” 

“Erik!” Castiel exclaimed before his arms reached up and grabbed Erik’s shoulders before he rolled them, pinning the young man under him. “Work is work. I will be back soon and I promise I will not leave the bed until you are so molded that only I can please you.” 

“Erik?” Dean’s voice brought Castiel back to the present and he found himself staring into the concerned face of his reluctant ally. “And what the hell did you say? You were mumbling in Russian.” 

Castiel quickly finished untying Dean before he shoved the fabric into his pocket. “It is not of import,” he stated calmly before he moved toward the door, “we need to move now. Let’s go.” 

Dean mumbled under this breath ‘dude needs to pull the stick out of his ass’ while he followed behind Castiel. He really wanted to know what caused the assassin to space out and who this Erik person was. There was enough time for him to uncover the mystery while they were on the road so Dean decided that for now he would just do what he had to, and then get back to his family. 

He is not Erik, Castiel thought as he slid into the driver’s seat. He needed to stop thinking about the man and instead focus on the current situation. Dean is not Erik. Remember that! He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Dean leaning against the door, somewhat angry and confused. Good, he thought as he put the key in the ignition and started the car, he doesn’t need to get too close. Make sure he doesn’t. 

Dean looked back at the building, groaned, then scratched his arms. “I think I got bed bugs from that room,” he whined as they pulled out the parking lot. 

Castiel rolled his eyes at the thought. “You did not get bed bugs.” 

“I’m itchy!” Dean remarked hotly as he viciously dug his nails into his neck. “If it’s not bed bugs then why am I so itchy?” 

“It’s in your head, Dean,” Castiel remarked with his hands on the steering wheel, “now stop scratching you’re making it worse!”

“It’s not in my head!” Dean shouted, fingers buried in his hair. “It’s bed bugs!” 

“If you’re that worried,” Castiel began not willing to argue with Dean anymore, “get in the back seat and strip. I’ll look you over!” 

Dean’s eyes went wide, his hands dropped to his lap, and his jaw hung open for a few seconds. “No! I’m not stripping in the back seat and letting you paw me.” 

Castiel clamped his hand over his mouth trying to hide his amused reaction to Dean’s little outburst. “Dean, I would have noticed if the room had bed bugs. I don’t want to itch all day either. In fact, there wasn’t any form of vermin.” 

Dean reined in the urge to slam his fists into Castiel’s face. He still itched and he hated the way Castiel seemed to have an answer for everything. “I doubt you would have told me if there were bugs anyway. You seem to like keeping me in the dark about important details.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you think of me but I would not have slept in a room with bugs. Yes, it was rundown and it wasn’t some luxurious, penthouse suite in a five star hotel but it suited our needs.” 

“The shower didn’t work.” Dean raked his eyes over the driver as he growled the words, “and it smelled funny.” 

“Dean if you want a bath that badly, I’m sure I can find a river somewhere,” he smirked while the road rolled under the wheels. “Of course it would be a cold bath.” 

Dean scoffed at that. He was not the camping type and he had no desire to bathe in some river. “Do you know how contaminated rivers are?” 

“I didn’t take you as a nature preserver, Dean,” Castiel’s snarky comment came with a raised eyebrow and drawn up lips. “I don’t want to have to tie you up every night. I will if I have to but I would prefer to be able to sleep without being tied to you.” 

Dean glared at Castiel before he crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t have to tie me up last night.” 

“Yes I did,” Castiel answered, “you would have run and I have no intention of letting you out of my sight just so the Demons can get you.” 

“It’s four guys,” Dean hissed with his eyes on the road. “How can they track us anyway?” 

“The Demons are a part of a larger network, Dean,” Castiel stated annoyed that the other man didn’t know this, “and I doubt it’s just the Demons after us now.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I was hired to take you out,” Castiel informed, “and when I didn’t, Dick called in reinforcements. And I’m sure that my group now has been told of my failure. Your father said something about demons being on your trail.” 

“So we have the Demons after me and your people after you?” Dean snapped knowing this day couldn’t get any worse. “How many people is that?” 

Castiel sighed for a number of reasons, the first of which was Dean’s attitude. He needed the hunter heir to remain level headed if possible. “Honestly, I don’t know. My organization is vast with a nearly unlimited number of members.” 

Well, that wasn’t the answer Dean wanted to hear. Dean liked having all the information about his enemies and right now he didn’t know enough to form a plan. “Your organization turned on you?” 

Castiel nodded quietly, his face drawn up in deep compilation. He was sure that his organization had been notified of his failure and while they wouldn’t work with the Demons, they would be after Castiel and in turn Dean. They would be fighting a two front war and that was one of the worse situation for an assassin. 

“Tell me you didn’t train anyone,” Dean groaned with a rub of his eyes. He did not need more well trained killers on his trail. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes before he turned his head and glared at Dean. “I trained several,” he stated calmly, “and I know how they were trained. I can stay several steps ahead of them. I’m not as concerned about my organization as I am the Demons. I don’t know how vast a network the Demons work with and I don’t know their procedures.” 

Dean huffed out a breath before he looked out the window. “So what should we do first? I’m guessing we need to stay on the move?” 

“Stay on the move as much as possible,” Castiel nodded then added, “and I want to change the plates on this car. The more steps they have to take to track us the better.” 

“Don’t you think this car stands out?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Not to the people we’re running from,” Castiel replied before he turned onto a backwoods highway, “they would expect us to be in something more modern and less beaten.”

“So why change the plates?” Dean did not understand this process. If the car wasn’t noticeable then what was the point of new plates? Why would Castiel need to take extra steps? 

“The plates are for those that would notice us,” Castiel stated as he mentally went through the necessary steps, “some small town cops like to run the plates of any strange vehicle that comes into town.”

Dean looked over the dash and down the road. “Where would we find another car to switch the plates? Doesn’t look like there’s much out here.” 

“You have never been on the run, have you?” Castiel groaned because he was really tired of the questions. He was not in the mood to have every move he made questioned by some pretty, rich boy who lived the perfect sheltered life. 

“No, I haven’t,” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, “because we were smart enough not to need it. No one has ever needed to run.” 

“Well good for you then,” Castiel snapped his patience with the young man almost gone, “I’m so glad that you had daddy to protect you from your own foolishness.” 

“At least I’m not the one spacing out, whispering sweet nothings in his sleep, or calling out for some guy named Erik!” Dean snapped. “And who the hell is Erik anyway? That’s the second time you called me that!” 

Castiel refused to answer Dean at that and instead changed the subject. “We need new clothes,” he needed to keep his wits about him and arguing with Dean got him nowhere fast. “We don’t blend in dressed like this.” 

“You suck at subject changes,” Dean remarked with a roll of his eyes that would have made most teenagers drool with envy. “I better not get stuck in overalls or something like that.” 

“Once again, t-shirt, jeans, sneakers,” Castiel reminded the man about the earlier conversation, “you’ll probably end up looking like a frat boy but I’m sure it will be fine.” 

Dean thought about for a moment then looked at the window. “If we’re going to be on the run, we might want to consider workmen's boots instead of sneakers. But anything is better than these things.” 

“Keep an eye out,” Castiel suggested as he drove. “We need to find a parking lot to get new plates before we do anything else.” 

Before they could find a parking lot, Dean stiffened in alarm at the sight of a pack of black SUVs with tinted windows coming up behind them at a high rate of speed. 

“Cass…we got company,” he exclaimed then reached between the seat to grab one of the rifles. “I think it’s four.” 

“Five!” Castiel answered after a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “Strap in!” He instructed before he pushed down on the accelerator.

“Yours or mine?” Dean asked as he buckled his seatbelt. 

“Most likely some of mine,” Castiel answered as he weaved in and out of traffic. Even at the high rate of speed, Castiel didn’t want some innocent to get hurt. He tried to stay off car’s bumpers and ahead of the ones chasing them. “But we’ll find out for sure, soon enough.” 

Dean glanced back to see one of the SUVS getting very close, and let out a surprised yelp when Castiel abruptly slammed on the brakes, swerving to the left and the SUV hit a tree. He was very grateful for the quick thinking even though Dean was pretty sure he had whiplash. 

“One down,” Castiel stated before he stomped the accelerator again and drove on the shoulder of the road. He took the first side road he found. “We need to lose the other ones before we do anything else.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean hissed before he flipped the safety off the rifle. He looked back at the four still in pursuit and had an idea. 

Castiel heard the sound of the seatbelt unlatching and a window rolling down before he glanced over and found Dean unbuckled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted over the noise as Dean leaned out the window. He reached out to pull him back in when Dean shot at the vehicles. 

“Fighting back!” He yelled kicking Castiel’s hand away. “Focus on the road!” He aimed the rifle at the lead vehicles right front tire and fired. 

Castiel shouted for Dean to get back in the car but the Hunter ignored him and remained focused on their enemies. Dean fired another round and this time, the bullet landed. The tire exploded into a billion little bits and that caused the entire vehicle swerve widely then flipped into another SUV. 

“Two down, two to go,” Dean announced as he slide back inside the car. He threw the empty rifle into the back then reached for another weapon. 

“I got this!” Castiel shouted then shoved Dean into his seat. “Put your belt on!” He ordered when he got sight of a construction site just ahead. He sped the car forward, gunning the engine as he headed toward the site. He glanced in the mirror making sure their pursuers still followed. 

Dean’s eyes widened when he noticed the massive cement barrier straight ahead. “Cass!” He shouted both hands going to the dash bracing for impact. He knew they were going to hit it when Castiel veered at the last second. The SUV behind them didn’t turn in enough time and smashed into it with brutal force, crushing the hood behind it flipped upward. 

Castiel spun around a stacked pile of huge, cement culverts before he whipped passed the last SUV. 

“What are you doing?” Dean shouted. 

“Watch,” Castiel growled as their car clipped the chains holding the culverts in place. They rolled onto the last SUV, crushing it. 

Castiel slid the car to a stop, surprising Dean when he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out.

“Where are you going?” The Hunter asked as he scrambled out the car as well. 

“Getting some answers.” The words hung heavy between them.

“We don’t need answers right now!” Dean followed Castiel toward the crushed SUV. “We need to go.” 

“We will once I know who was after us,” Castiel nodded before he turned his attention back to the SUV. 

Castiel was close enough to tell that the driver was still alive, just barely, while the rest of the occupants were already dead. The young, pretty brunette, glass pieces embedded in her head, wouldn’t last long but it was enough for him. Brief flashes of blue light flickered under her skin, her enhancements trying to heal the damage but failing. The crash caused too much. 

“Hael, who sent you?” He growled bent low but carefully looking for any weapons. “How did you find us?” He grabbed the few pistols he saw scattered at the scene. A dying angel was dangerous and unpredictable and Castiel didn’t want to give her the chance to kill him. 

The wounded woman smirked up at him with blood stained teeth. “You’ll never be free of Garrison, Castiel. We will always find you. Track you down like the dog you are.” She laughed at that, blood dripping from her lips. “You failed, Castiel and your punishment is death.” 

“How did you track us?” He sneered. 

“We will always find you. You’re just another dog on a leash that doesn’t know it yet.” She choked on her blood then a bright, blinding, white blue light erupted from body. Her mouth dropped open as if to scream in agonizing pain, but no sound came and she died unable to answer any more questions. 

Dean witnessed the entire thing and watched as the assassin turned around and strode back to the car, not saying another world. The silence unnerved him as they headed back onto the road and he observed Castiel carefully, trying to figure out what was going on in the stranger’s head. 

He opened his mouth to say something, to try and pull Castiel out of his thoughts only nothing seemed the right thing to say at that point. Instead he remained silent, and let the time pass as Castiel drove.


	7. The Magnificent Seven

“Stop here,” Dean broke the hours of silence with the words just before they drove by a small, squat, square building with a bright, flashing, neon sign in the shape of a bar stein. 

“We can’t stop,” Castiel barely glanced away from the road, “we have to keep going. We might have fought off the Garrison once but there is no way I’m risking another battle.” 

Dean looked at the gas gauge needle pointed at ‘E’ and pointed to the building. “We need money and I know how to get it. Stop the damn car and let me do this. The first sign of trouble, you can grab my ass, and we run. We need the cash and I doubt the Garrison is going to look for us in some bar.” 

“We don’t have fake IDS. How are we going to get in there without alerting those after us?” 

“You have to pull in there and I’ll show you.” He challenged. 

Castiel knew Dean was right. They didn’t have enough money to fill the tank. Without cash, they would be stuck wherever the tank ran dry with every little chance of reaching some kind of fortifiable position. “You better know what you’re doing.” He slowed down enough to pull into the small, side, gravel parking lot then parked in the back.

“I wish we had better clothes,” Dean grumbled as they got out the car and made their way to the door. 

“We could always just stick to my plan of not stopping.” 

Dean shot Castiel one of his ‘you’re annoying me, stop it’ looks before they stepped up to the door. 

If anyone asked him later how Dean managed to get them into the bar, Castiel would just shrug. He had no idea Dean pulled it off, but after a few seconds of chatting with the ID checker, both men were inside without a fuss. Castiel thought the bar would be deserted given it was a weekday night and the remote location but Dean seemed pleasantly surprised at the number of patrons. 

"What do I do?” This was not Castiel’s usual foray into bars or clubs. He didn’t go in them unless he worked a case and even then, he was in and out without being seen. 

“Stay close to me.” Dean kept his voice low so no one would overhear. He didn’t need Castiel going toe to toe with the burly men in the club, especially since they needed some quick cash. “And don’t talk unless you have to.” 

Dean walked around the bar for a few minutes before he moved over to a free pool table. He handed Cass one stick before he picked one for himself. “You and me for a few games. Make it good.” 

The pair played three rounds before a man approached them. He was a bit taller than Cass but shorter than Dean, with dark brown hair cut close to the scalp and dark blue eyes. 

The man threw down five twenties and a cocky grin to Dean. 

“Hundred bucks says you can’t beat me,” he taunted slowly raking his eyes over Dean’s entire body. 

“I don’t have that kind of cash,” Dean parried as he lined up his shot basically ignoring the newcomer. He knew how to hustle guys like this. Make them think you’re not interested and they keep raising the stakes. 

“I’ll put down the cash and you can put anything else you want,” the man agreed sliding up to Dean’s side. 

Castiel gripped the pool stick tight at the words. He hated the way the newcomer smirked lustfully at Dean. It reminded him too much of the gazes the traffickers gave Erik when the boy too young and fearful to go anywhere alone. He would not allow some strange man to treat Dean the same way. 

Dean glanced up from table just long enough to feign annoyance and boredom. “I’m worth a helluva lot more than that.” He commented before he returned his attention to the balls. 

The man rose to the challenge, opened his wallet, and three hundred appeared on top of the twenties. “Better?” 

“Enough,” Dean answered as he straightened himself out. “Solids or stripes?” 

Castiel moved with that. He wasn’t going to just stand there and let Dean bet himself on some pool guy with a strange man. He pulled Dean away from the table just before they agreed on terms. 

“Are you insane? That guy could beat you.” He growled dangerously. “This is not how I wanted to get cash.” 

“Don’t worry. I got this.” 

Dean winked at Cass before he moved back to the table. He racked the balls letting the other man take the first shot. His opponent didn’t sink any so Dean called solids and easily sank the seven and the five. He called the two in the corner and easily sank the shot. He followed that with the one and three in opposite corners. The six ball followed the four then Dean won the game with the eight ball in the side pocket. 

Castiel gritted his teeth and white knuckled the stick until Dean let out a whoomp, picked up the cash, and walked away from the table. Once he knew Dean wouldn’t be prostituting himself, Castiel let out a relieved breath and pulled the Hunter away from the tables. 

“We are leaving right now,” he tugged on Dean trying to get them out of there before some other idiot decided to challenge Dean to another round. 

“What? Where?” Dean barely managed the words as Castiel roughly pulled him out the bar. “Dude, what’s your problem? I got us some money. I can play again and win some more.” 

“No.”

Castiel stormed toward the car silently seething at the entire night. He hated the sex trade for a number of reasons and just the idea that Dean might have lost, might have had to use his body for payment, made his blood boil. He didn’t remember opening the car but he must have because before he knew it, he growled never do that again in Dean’s ear and threw the hunter roughly into the passenger seat. Car doors slammed, the engine roared to life, and soon they were speeding down the road away from the bar and that man. 

Of course, they didn’t get very far before the low fuel flashed on and Castiel slammed his fist into the dash. He forced himself to pull into the next parking lot he found which turned out to be a small, roadside, no tell motel. He hated the idea of stopping now but without fuel, they would have to continue on foot and that would cause more problems. 

Knowing they couldn’t continue, Castiel walked into the lobby and got them a cheap room. 

Dean knew this was going to worse than the one with the devouring wall paper because this place bragged that it rented rooms by the half hour. He was quite surprised when he opened the door and smelled laundry soap, bleach, and other cleaning products. 

“At least the wallpaper doesn’t want to eat us,” he quipped. 

Castiel’s temper finally calmed down enough where he could try and plan their next move. The Garrison caught up them but they escaped and so far the Demons hadn’t found them. He needed a plan, something that would totally eliminate one of their pursuers while keeping the other one off their trail. 

“We can’t stay long,” Castiel admitted after he shuffled inside then closed the door behind them and securing the dead bolt and lock. “We’re out of gas and in need of a car.” 

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. “I’m sure we have enough time for a quick shower.” 

Before Castiel had a chance to say don’t you dare, Dean was already in the bathroom and the water running. He groaned as he rubbed his forehead. That man was the most infuriating, pig headed, headache inducing person he ever met. More than once, Castiel thought about throwing Dean over his knees and spanking him. Maybe the humiliation would be enough that Dean wouldn’t continually fight and argue. He managed to pull himself out of those thoughts and focused on staying alert. He needed to watch for cars and people. The Garrison could be close, the Demons even closer. Castiel pulled the chair to the window and kept his lookout. The sooner they were out of here, the better.   
Dean emerged from the bathroom dressed in his old clothes and a cloud of steam. It seemed the shower lifted his spirits a bit because he didn’t needle Castiel about his perch. 

“Anyone following us?” 

“Not that I can tell.” 

“Anything we can use?” 

“No.” 

Dean waited for more but none came so he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Clean clothes would have been nice,” he mumbled to himself. He searched for the TV remote only to have Cass glare at him. Dean flopped down on the bed and waited until the silence got too much for him. 

“My dad wasn’t always the head of the Hunter Syndicate,” Dean stared at the ceiling counting the cracks and pits in the tiles, “his dad was a Man of Letters. Dad was a legacy.” 

“How did you end up as the next Head then?” Castiel asked. 

“My mom, she was a Campbell and they are legends. Samuel and Deanna Campbell, able to trace their blood line back to the first demon hunters. The Hunters and the Society of Letters were two sides of the same coin with the most antagonistic relationship possible. The Men of Letters believed the Hunters to be knuckle dragging, bloodthirsty Neanderthals barely above apes. Hunters thought the Men of Letters were weak, scared as their own shadows, bookworms that didn’t lift a finger to help and kept their heads in the sand. Now most of the time, the Hunter and the Men of Letters stayed out of each other’s way. Every once and a while, the Men of Letters stepped out of their gilded cages and used a Hunter as a necessary evil of the job. Stayed like that until the fifties when the Men of Letters were almost wiped out by the Knights of Hell. The librarians were on the run, numbers dwindling every day, and the apes stepped in, killed the Knights, and saved the day.” 

Dean sat up with that with a half smirk and a small shrug. “They joined forces after that and tried to put the past them. Didn’t really work. First couple of years, the tension seemed to get worse. Hunters don’t trust people that don’t get their hands dirty and sit their heads in the sand when times get tough. They tried to work it out, tried to make it better. Nothing worked until a trade was proposed. One young Campbell Hunter for one Winchester Legacy. My mom becomes a Woman of Letters, my dad becomes a hunter, and they hated one another. Don’t know how, but they fall in love. When they got married, the organizations agreed that for a year, they were out. A year turned into two, and would have been rest of their lives if the Demon threat hadn’t caught up to them. I was four, Sammy was six months, and someone tried to set fire our house. There’s an even longer story behind that but at least everyone got out in time. Dad got burned pretty badly, and mom, she knew who would help. The Men of Letters, now called the Society of Letters, took us in, patched my dad up. Hunters were pissed some demon went after their own, and wanted revenge. The organizations have been close ever since. The Hunters are the muscle and the enforcers while the Letters plan and keep their hands clean.” 

Castiel glanced over at the Hunter, a small smile forming on his lips because Dean didn’t seem like the type of man that just opened up to anyone and talked. It made him feel like he wasn’t in this alone, that when push came to shove, then bullets flew, Dean would be next to him, fighting with him instead of against. It was nice to have an ally in this even if the man did have a target on his back. 

They looked at one another for a second before Dean cleared his throat. 

“So what’s the next move? And please don’t tell me getting another and just driving off.” 

Castiel looked a bit sheepish because yes, that had been his plan. 

“Oh come on,” Dean groaned. “You mean to tell me you can’t come up with something better than that? Nothing at all? Camping in the woods for a month? Running off to some tropical island? Stealing the moon? Anything?” 

“Stealing the moon?” Castiel pinched up his face at that. 

“Gru? Despicable Me?” 

Castiel still looked confused and Dean was just about to explain the plot when the door bulged forward then exploded into wooden shards sending plaster and shrapnel into the air. Castiel flipped the chair backward and Dean rolled onto the floor just in time to avoid the wave of bullets cut through the air. Meg and Ruby appeared in the doorway as they continue to fire until the clips ran empty. They ducked, reloaded their weapons, and moved forward into the room as Azael and Lucifer became the second wave of gunfire. 

The plan was for the men to spread cover fire while Meg moved to the right toward Castiel while Ruby crept toward Dean. Once the ladies reached their targets, they would kill them slowly, torturous, before the quartet accepted their next target. Funny, how quickly plans can change when the target is a very well trained Hunter and a world-renowned assassin. 

Dean threw his weight into the bed frame and managed to push the mattress onto its side before it fell on Meg. He grabbed her gun while she pinned and shot her in the face. Black smoke poured from her mouth, the signal that she was truly gone. With one Demon down, Dean aimed at Lucifer and squeezed the trigger. The tall blonde screamed as the bullet pierced his sternum then his heart. He crumpled to the floor dead. Thick, black, sulphur smelling smoke filled the air making it very difficult for Dean to see. He stayed close to the floor. 

Enhancements ready, Castiel took the distraction to grab Ruby’s gun before she got her bearings. Two shots and her beautiful body laid dead on the motel room floor. Two more shots, and the Four Demons fell. It took several minutes for the black smoke to dissipate. The smell of rotten eggs, heavy in the small room, made Dean’s eyes water as he stood. 

The pair panted for a few seconds trying to get their bearings before they looted the bodies. Dean pulled range of hand guns from Meg’s body and a wicked looking knife off Ruby. Castiel took Lucifer’s guns and extra clips and a long, hunting knife off Azazel. The assassin lifted a set of car keys from Lucifer’s pocket. 

No words were spoken as Dean and Castiel made their way out the room and into the parking room. It didn’t take much to find the Demon’s vehicle, a cherry red, 1965 Mustang parked in front of the manager’s office. The blood spatter on the windows made it so Castiel didn’t need to open the door to know that the Demons killed the manager. 

“No one’s alive.” Dean knew it was true, knew the Demons killed every other person that just happened to be at the motel. How many random strangers lost their lives tonight? 

Castiel didn’t answer, instead he simply checked the Mustang for bombs before he unlocked the car and got inside. Even though the Demons were gone, Dean’s life was still under threat. The Garrison knew Dean travelled with Cass and if they got their hands on the Hunter, Dean would be used as bait in a trap. He couldn’t leave Dean now. Plus when word got back to the Levis, Castiel had no idea who Dick would send after Dean. Castiel vowed to protect Dean and he would until no threats remained.


	8. The Born-Again Identity

“How much further?”  Dean groaned bored with the same scenery and the uncomfortable silence.  “Seriously how far until we find a town?”  He shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable after being cooped up too long in this car.  “I’m hungry!”  It had been two days since the Demon attack and the pair only stopped long enough for gas.  Every time they thought they found a place to ditch this car for another, the lot ended up having security cameras, no cars for their needs, or heavy pedestrian traffic.

  
“You are a spoiled brat,” Castiel grumbled under his breath trying his damnest to concentrate on the road and not the attractive man in the passenger seat.  “We haven’t been driving that long, Dean,” he said those words louder so the other would hear.  

  
“Dude, it’s morning!”  Dean snapped before he turned in his seat and faced the driver.  “And I don’t mean it’s the morning we left that crappy motel. That was yesterday!”

  
Castiel rubbed his eye trying to fight off the headache and the murderous thoughts building inside his brain.  Since leaving the motel, Dean pushed his buttons in ways that Castiel didn’t know exist.  He needed to get out of the car, get away from Dean, and center himself but they were on country back roads with little chance of pulling off and taking a break.  

  
“Let me drive!”  Dean whined for what seemed like the hundredth time.  “Seriously, my butt’s numb and I’m sure yours is too.  And we haven’t had a bathroom break since last night.  Come on, pull over!”  

  
“No!”  Castiel shouted slamming his hand into the steering wheel.  “You’ll run off and I don’t need that.”  

  
“Seriously?”  Dean quipped because really where he was going to go.  “Have you looked around?  There isn’t a town in sight and I’m pretty sure the last house I saw was two states over!”  

  
Castiel glanced at the clock and sighed.  He did need a break from driving, his legs cramped painfully, his vision wasn’t the best, he was hungry and tired, and now that Dean mentioned it, he needed to pee.  “If we haven’t pulled into a town in the next fifteen minutes,” Castiel offered noting the time, “I’ll pull off and we can switch.”  

  
“Thank God!”  Dean whooped.  

  
True to his word, Castiel pulled off onto the side of the road, fifteen minutes later.  Both men slowly got out, limbs stiff from being in the same position far too long, and stretched.  Joints popped, grunts made, then the pair walked around to the opposite side of the car.  They stood like that for a while, letting the feeling return to their bodies.  

“Seriously, numb butt,” Dean remarked as he leaned over the hood, “never want that to happen again.”  

Castiel opened his mouth to reply only to realize there was no way he was going to let Dean bait him like that.  Instead he closed his mouth, turned his back, and leaned against the car door.  He stood like that for a minute, ignoring Dean and pushing all thoughts except planning the next ten moves out of his head.  New clothes, more weapons, and another car, Castiel wasn’t about to keep this one now that they had stopped and someone had seen it.  Even with changed plates, the Garrison was still out there hunting Castiel and Dean.  He didn’t believe for a moment, that the four Demons from the hotel were the only ones on their heels.  

“We need another car,” he stated after a few minutes of silence, “someone knows what we are driving.”  

“Oh not again!”  Dean complained before he glanced down the empty road.  “The next one might really explode!”  

“Or we might find a better one without the trash and in better condition,” Castiel parried as he opened the car door.  “Get in and let’s go.  We need to get a move on.”  

Dean didn’t really say much, just rolled his eyes and grumbled something inaudible under his breath before he climbed into the driver’s seat.  Castiel handed over the keys with a warning.   If Dean tried anything fishy, he would suffer.  Dean nodded before they were off.   He drove for hours, stopping twice for gas and bathroom breaks.  Castiel didn’t want to stay stopped and urged Dean to hurry along and get back on the road.  

“Calm down,” Dean hissed into the assassin’s ear while they waited to pay.  “You look stretchier than the tweeker in the back trying to steal the six packs.”  

“Dean, there are several cameras in this place,” Castiel kept his voice low and his head tilted down so his voice wouldn’t carry well.  “My organization hacks into camera feeds and tracks its prey.”  

“Stealing gas makes it easier to be found,” Dean admitted as he stepped up in the line.  “And we can’t use credit cards so it’s cash only.  No one is going to let us pump gas before we pay.  Just because this is backwoods doesn’t mean the people are backwards.”  

The assassin growled low in his throat before he rolled his eyes and remained next to Dean.   “This is not smart.”  

“Do you want to run out of gas on some run down, broken, back room in the middle of nowhere?”  Dean cautioned as they moved up in line again.  “Because I don’t and until we get a car with better gas mileage, we have to make stops.”  He looked around the small, dimly lit store, searching for the security cameras. “Plus this is the only store for the next 100 miles.   Gas and the bathroom, then we are back on the road.”  

  
“We are driving all night as soon as this is done,” Castiel admitted before they stepped up to the counter.  Dean passed the clerk three twenties before getting the receipt and making it back to the car.  “We need to dump this one as soon as possible.  The cameras got the plate and the description.”  

Dean rolled his eyes before he went to the pump.  “Couldn’t have told me that before I paid for a full tank?  It’s not like we can hit an ATM to get more cash.”  

“I’m not worried about our cash.  You have proven there’s more than one way to get money on the road.”  The assassin answered while he scanned the lot and the road.  There was just enough traffic in the store to make it easy for the clerk to forget about a pair of men traveling together but not enough to completely cover their tracks.  “We need to stay ahead of the Demons and my people.”

Dean shook his head because he didn’t want to hear that.  He wanted to go home, take over the family business, and kill every single Levi.  He wanted to rip the people responsible for this mess limb from limb until there was nothing left.  He thought about how he would destroy all his families’ rivalries and show the criminal underground that Dean Winchester was not a man to be tested as he filled the tank.  

“I’ll drive,” he curtly said when he clicked the gas cap shut and slammed the fuel door shut.  

“You’re angry,” Castiel calmly stated with a sideways glance to the Hunter Heir.  He saw the tension in Dean’s body, the raw need to annihilate and burn anyone that got in his way.   “You want revenge.”  

“I want a lot more than that,” Dean answered before he got in the car.  He waited for Castiel to take his place in the passenger seat then do the seatbelt.  He turned the key, making the Mustang roar to life, and because he was in a particular foul mood, he shoved the car into gear then peeled out of the gas station onto the highway.  

Dean drove for a few hours until he found another small, off the beaten path town that had just enough population for a grocery, big box department, a drugstore, and a hotel.  He glanced over to Castiel who managed to nod off during the ride.  He slowed the car thinking this would be a good place to stop for a while.   A good night’s sleep and some food would do both men good.  

“Keep driving,” Castiel barely opened his eyes when he gave the command.  

“Why?”  Dean kept his eyes on the road hoping he could figure out what the other man was thinking.  “This would be a great place to stop.  We need some food and a change of clothes.”  

“No gun shop and no bar.  We need some money before getting the other stuff.”  

Dean pinched the shoulder of his pajama top and took a quick whiff.  “We have been in the same clothes for two days now and I haven’t showered.  We stink and this is an opportunity to fix that.”  He pulled into the hotel parking lot ignoring Castiel’s heated glares.  He found a spot around back and close to the building.  “Come on, let’s get checked in.”

“At least the wallpaper won’t eat us,” Dean teased when he opened the room door and saw one bed, a small tv, and a desk.  “Should be bed bug free.”  He stepped inside with a slight smile because he wouldn’t have to sleep in that car and would get a hot shower along with a call to his family.  

“Dean, this is a horrible idea.  Stopping just gives the Demons time to find us.”  Castiel stood in the doorway, unwilling to step inside and let his guard down.  “And my group….”    
“Dude, I am not staying on the road in that car another minute,” Dean explained as he flopped down on the bed.  “We’ve been driving the same car for at least two days and I’m

still in my pajamas.   If someone tracked us down again, don’t you think we would have done Grand Theft Auto again by now.”    
“We might just be lucky.  I don’t know how the Garrison found us in the first place,” Castiel finally stepped inside the room and closed the door.  “Dean, we can’t stay still.  Being on the move is what is keeping us alive.”  

“It’s one night,” Dean groaned throwing his right arm over his eyes with a long sigh.  “One night out of who knows how many on the run so why not try to enjoy it while we can?”    
Castiel knew that he couldn’t talk Dean out of staying the night and decided it was time to stop wasting his energy.  He checked their weapons bag, and money already knowing they were low on funds.  “We need to get some quick cash.  We have about hundred bucks left.”  

“We can find a bar and hustle a few games of pool.”  Dean suggested slowly relaxing.  “Just give me a couple of minutes.”  He managed to prop himself up on his elbows.  

“Get some rest, you drove most of the day.   The store is just up the block.  I’ll get you something.”    

Dean barely managed a grunt before he drifted into a light sleep letting Castiel slip out the room without the need to tie up the young hunter heir.  The assassin crossed the back of the hotel’s parking lot staying out of sight of the road.  He needed to get back to the room as soon as possible to limit the chance of The Demons and his people catching sight of him.

Castiel was always careful with his movements but he hated this, hated running from his organization and having another on his trail.  This was no way to live and until he had eliminated all threats against him, he would remain on the run.   Castiel hadn’t faced a situation like this since his time as a youth but he hadn’t lost the skills and knowledge necessary to prevail.  

He wished he brought some of his card scamming equipment because it would make getting funds on the road much easier.  He and Dean survived on the money in Dean’s wallet up until now and that well was almost dry.  

Castiel walked into the store expecting leave almost bare handed since his budget was less than fifty bucks only to let out a huge sigh of relief.  The shop was one of those large discount types with only one price point.  At least Castiel would get them some essentials without breaking the bank.  He walked the store slowly making sure to check each aisle before he ventured down.  He wasn’t going to take the chance of getting caught on a security camera or a spy.  He needed to stay away from knowing eyes if he wanted to keep his pursuers off his trail.  

Castiel picked up two sticks on deodorant, another tube of toothpaste, two more toothbrushes, two bars of soap on the personal care aisle before he moved to the clothing aisle.  For himself, he easily found a three pack of socks, a four pack of underwear, three pairs of loose, cotton pants in various colors, and three plain black tee shirts along with a pair of blue plaid pajama pants and a cheap pair of sneakers.  Finding items for Dean proved a bit more difficult since he didn’t have the man’s exact size.   He used himself as a guide then went up a size just in case before he purchased the same items plus an extra shirt.  They wouldn’t be stylish but at least they wouldn’t be wearing the same clothes for weeks.    He lucked up and found a travel bag to stuff the clothing into and left the store with change.  

Castiel slipped back into the hotel room making sure to lock the door behind him.  He glanced over to the second bed and saw Dean completely sprawled out fast asleep.  He gave a slight, relaxed smile before he walked passed the beds into the bathroom.  He could have woken Dean up then ventured out to the bar but decided to let the hunter heir sleep.  He didn’t know when they would have another opportunity and if Dean fell asleep so quickly, Castiel knew that the man must have been exhausted.  A few hours of rest would do them good and Dean had a point.  Four days on the road, three car changes, and more than a dozen license plate switches, they had a good lead on their pursuers and enough anonymity to rest for one night.  

Tomorrow they would have to deal with the money situation but for right now, there wasn’t much they could do.  He glanced at his watch, glad he decided to let Dean sleep.  Even if they did find a bar,  it was too close to closing time for them to hustle up enough cash to make a dent in their problem.   Castiel made a mental list of what he needed to do while he had some time.  Check the weapons, count the cash, get their supplies clean and organize, all of it needed to be done before they got back on the road in the morning.  

He glanced down at the packaged clothes and sighed.  Castiel wanted them washed and dried before they spent days cooped up in cars.  He couldn’t ask at the front desk because it would give the clerk another opportunity to remember his face.  A laundry mat would be the next logical choice; however there wasn’t one close and he didn’t want to waste the gas driving to find another one.  Plus they didn’t have the money to waste.  

“Hand washing it is,” Castiel mumbled as he moved into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.  

Growing up on the rough streets of Moscow taught him a number of handy skills that served him well during this time.  He bent stripped out of his coat and shirt before he bent down at the edge of the tub.  He twisted the cold tap and filled the small tub half way before he turned off the water.  Even though the hotel wasn’t a upscale, trendy one, it did supply the guests with complimentary mini bottles of shampoo and hand lotion.  

Castiel looked over at the amount of clothing he needed to wash before he flipped open the shampoo bottle and tipped the entire contents into the water.  He used his hands to sud up the mixture then went about opening all the packages.  He sorted the items into four manageable piles before he went to work, dipping one piece into the water. 

Once he was sure the garment was soaked, he rubbed it together then wrung out the water before starting over again.  When he was sure it was clean, Castiel twisted it until very little water dripped out then hung it over the side of the tub to finish drying.  

“What are you doing?”  Dean mumbled still half asleep when he stumbled into the bathroom and almost tripped over one of the piles.  “Where did you get this stuff?”  

“There was one of those ‘everything is a dollar’ store down the street.” Castiel answered while he twisted a pair of Dean’s pants.  “And I’m washing the clothes I got there.”

“By hand?”  Dean sounded more awake now than just a few seconds before.  “Don’t you think a laundromat would work better?”  He moved around the clothes and Castiel to the toilet and lifted the lid.  He had no reason to be bashful around the guy he’d been on the run with for days now.   “Will all of that be dry by the time we want to leave?”  

Castiel quickly turned his attention away from Dean back to his task when the hunter heir pulled down his pants.  He couldn’t get lost in the memories right now.  He focused on the second pile of clothing, plunging one of the shirts into the tub then scrubbing the material while Dean did his business.  He did not need his brain comparing Dean’s body to Erik’s and he didn’t want to remember how wonderful Erik’s hands felt.  

“Are you trying to rip a hole in that?”  Dean asked after he finished and pulled up his pants.  

“What?”  Castiel glanced down at the sock in his hand, the same one he had been working for a good minute.  He shook his head then laid the sock on the side of the tub.  

“Want some help?”  

“No.” Castiel wanted to have some time to gather his thoughts and get his head on straight.  “Go back to sleep.  We’re going to be on the road from now on.”  

“Okay.” Dean shuffled out the bathroom after he washed his hands.  

Castiel went back to work after he heard Dean flop down on the bed.  He didn’t want the memories that bubbled just under the surface and threatened to lap over his mind.  He needed to stay on track and focus on keeping Dean alive and away from all kinds of trouble.  When he was done, every flat surface in the hotel bathroom was covered with drying clothes.  Castiel turned up the heat before he walked out and closed the door behind him.   He needed to keep the heat in so that the clothes would dry without heating up the rest of the hotel room.

He took two steps before the sight of Dean sprawled out in the middle of the bed stopped him.   Castiel blinked and suddenly he was in a dimly light, small bedroom  with Erik sprawled out on top of his sheets completely nude fast asleep.  Castiel’s eyes wandered over his beautiful boy’s body taking in the dips and curves.   He stepped closer to the bed making the floorboard creek.  

_“Lexi?”  Erik mumbled sleepily as he turned over and rubbed his eyes.  “When did you get home?  Do you need something?  I’ll make you a good meal.”  He propped himself up on the elbows then started to get out of bed._

_Castiel stripped out of his work clothes quickly before he moved to his side of the bed.  He placed his hands on Erik’s shoulders.  He furrowed his brows at the icy chill of the boy’s skin.  “Get under the coverings.”_

_“I should make you something….”_

_“Get under the coverings, Erik,” Castiel ordered with a slight growl in his voice._

_Erik’s eyes widened before he quickly scurried under the covers worried that he offended the powerful man.  He settled under the warm blankets trying to relax and unable to get comfortable._

_The assassin moved to the antique, oak,  dresser and opened the middle drawer.  He pulled out a pair of thick, fleece, plaid sleep pants and the matching, long sleeve top.  He tossed the pajamas on the bed.   “Put those on.”  He ordered._

_Erik did as he was told but couldn’t keep his hands from trembling and Castiel knew he was scared. Not of him but of the type of the men  that Castiel dealt with.  How many had tried to bargain for time with Erik and how many had he killed because they tried to touch what they shouldn’t?_

_“Here,” Castiel slid under the blankets, and threw his left arm under Erik’s back and pulled the young man close.  “It’s too cold for you to be sleeping on the covers.  I want you to sleep under them from now on.”_

_“But I thought you wanted….”_

_“Erik, I want you to be comfortable,” Castiel cut off the words before they could filter in the air, “you're a part of my home.  I want you to be warm and content here.”  He kissed Erik’s forehead before he curled his arm around Erik’s shoulders.  He pulled the linens tight around them trapping their body heat.  “I am not like him, Erik.  I want you safe, warm, and happy.”_

_“He said I would die,” Erik whispered burying his face into Castiel’s side and trying to get himself from trembling, “that he would kill me if I disappoint him.”_

_“He can’t get to you,” Castiel moved the younger man so he was draped over Castiel’s chest.  “I will not let him get you.  Do you understand?  You’re mine.”_

_Erik looked around nervously before he nodded.  “Yours.”_

_“Good, so get some sleep,” Castiel smirked before he wrapped his arms tightly around Erik’s waist.  “In the morning, I’m taking out.  We haven’t had a chance to enjoy our new home.”_

Castiel found himself pulled out of the memory when Dean made a grunting noise in his sleep before he turned over on his back.  Castiel reminded himself once again that

Dean was not Erik and he couldn’t allow himself to get remember his young lover.  He needed to remain in the present no matter what for his life and Dean’s rested on it.  And with that thought in his head, Castiel walked over to the chair in the corner and sunk down with a heavy sigh.  This was one hell of a mission.  

Dean woke up slowly feeling well rested for the first time since the attack.  He didn’t remember falling asleep on top of the covers after he went to the bathroom.   How did Cass in up in the bed?  Wasn’t the assassin washing clothes in the bathtub?  How in the world did they end up sharing a bed?  Why was his arm thrown over the assassin?  

“What the hell?”  Dean jumped back when his mind finally got up to his body.

“How did I end up here?”  Castiel mumbled very confused because he remembered falling asleep in the chair and he wasn’t the type to move much when he slept.

“That’s what I want to know,” Dean hurried off the bed and escaped into the bathroom before this got any weirder.  He looked around at the dried, hung clothes and admitted to himself that he liked the idea of not wearing his pajamas for a fifth day in a row.  He picked up a pair of black pants, a shirt, and boxer shorts, checked the sizes, and then patted the seams to make sure they weren’t damp.  He grabbed the rest of the clothing, opened the bathroom door, and tossed everything out with an “I’m getting a shower before we leave.”  

Castiel thought about breaking down the bathroom door, physically dragging Dean out of the shower, into the car, and just getting back on the road only to stop and think.  If he did drag Dean out now, the working relationship they built over the past few days would be lost.  He needed Dean to work with him not fight him so instead of getting right back on the road, he picked up the scattered clothing, packed what he didn’t need hastily into the bags, and waited for Dean to finish.  If he waited this long, another twenty minutes wasn’t going to hurt and unless Dean used up all the hot water, a shower would be nice.  His skin felt tight and itchy but a quick, warm shower should remove grit and grime.  He listened to the sounds of the water running while he waited his turn secure in the knowledge that Dean couldn’t abandon him here.  

While Castiel waited for the shower, Dean stood under the spray letting the warm water pound the sore muscles of his neck, back, and shoulders.  Four days in the front seat of a car even with the few stops along the way knotted up his back more than he wanted to admit.  He understood the need to move but he really wished that Castiel would let him decide where to go.  There were safe houses, families that would take them in with an offer of shelter, and all Dean needed to do was convince Castiel to head in that direction.   The assassin might know how to keep himself alive but he certainly didn’t know how to live.  

Dean picked up the bar of mini soap and went to work washing the road grime and muck from his skin.  He scrubbed away the gritty, gross feeling that hung on his skin with the light scent of honeysuckle and rain until he felt like a new man.  And since he felt like a new man, he thought it would be a good time to handle a little bit of personal business.  He smirked to himself as he closed his eyes using the time to flip through his highlight reel of sexual escapades.  An angelic, red haired waif, a gruff, bearded, vampire of an older man with shocking blue eyes, a strong willed, Amazon blonde that left Dean with bruises, none of them suited for today’s activities.  Instead Dean found himself in the middle of a new fantasy, one with Castiel on his knees sucking Dean off in the shower.  He moaned at the thought of a trained killer’s lips wrapped around Dean’s cock.  It was a wonderful fantasy that lasted about ten minutes until Dean stepped out of the shower with a satisfied smirk on his face.  

He took his time drying off enjoying the lingering effects of his first hot shower in days as well as the pleasant tingles that spread through his bloodstream after orgasm.  He sped up as he dressed thankful for clean clothes.  He would have hated put back on days old clothing after such a great time.  Dean felt a lot more alive right now, more like a guy on a road trip instead of wanted man.  

“It’s not the most luxurious shower ever but the pressure’s nice and the hot water is piping,” Dean explained to his companion when he finally emerged from the bathroom.  

Dean watched Castiel pick up a few items before he stood up and moved to the bathroom.  He waited until he heard the water splashing against the tile before he sat down on the bed and picked up the phone.  He kept one eye on the bathroom door as he dialed a number.  

“Hello?”  A very deep voice answered with an annoyed tone after two rings.

Dean nervously rubbed his hand over his forehead.  He had no clue how to approach this subject with his dad without it turning into a huge argument.  

“Hey, Dad,” Dean answered quietly hoping Castiel couldn’t hear him over the shower.  

“Dean?”  The wave of relief rolled through the phone and Dean pictured his father’s shoulders relaxing.   “There was a demon attack in Colorado and no one heard from you.  I’m sending a team after you.  Tell me where you are.  The family is coming to get you.”  The words were rushed and harsh with John wanting to get Dean back to safety so John could keep his eyes on Dean.

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a few seconds.  This was not the calm, collected, strong man he knew.   His dad never sounded anxious and worried, never had a frantic edge to his words.  Nothing ever phased his father and whoever this was, Dean didn’t like it.   

“Dad, I’m fine.  The Demons, we got them.  They’re dead.” Dean wanted his dad back.  He wanted the man that stared down the crazed, arsonist that tried to set fire to their family home when he was four.  He wanted the man that never let his emotions get out of control and always seemed so calm.   “I can’t come home right now.  We have a plan.”

“What plan?”  John didn’t sound quite convinced that Dean staying away was a good idea.  “Are you heading to the Campbells? The bunker?  FBI?   Can you get to the Trans?  Linda Tran rules the Prophet Syndicate.  She owes us a favor after we stopped the Levis from kidnapping Kevin.”  

Dean glanced over his shoulder to the closed bathroom door just to make sure Castiel wasn’t listening.  He needed to have a conversation with his father without inference or the need to rush.   “Dad, we have a plan.  We’re staying on the road as much as possible.”

“What about money, Dean?  You can’t stay on the road if you can’t fund yourself,” Dean pictured his father sitting at the kitchen table, phone pressed against his ear, a glass of some whiskey in his free hand.  “Find a safe house, Dean.  Find a safe house and keep your head down.  Let me handle this.”  

“If we don’t keep moving, the Demons will find us,” Dean replied switching the phone to his other ear, “and if they don’t, the Garrison will.  I can’t just hole up and hope they don’t find me.  Plus I can’t put anyone else in the line of fire.  The Levis hired them to go after me.  You taught me never to put anyone else in line of a bullet.  The Winchesters fight their own battles.”  

“Dean,” John let out a long, slow breath. “I am telling you to get to safety.  Fighting a two front war is not an option.  You get to safety.  The Campbells, the Trans, any one of our allies, I don’t care what family you go to just get to shelter.  Please, Dean.”  

“If I was any other man, you would label me a coward.” Dean kept a tight rein on his emotions.  “I’m not a coward.”  

“You are my son and I will not bury you!”  Dean heard the sound of John’s fist hitting the table and the rattle of silverware.  “I need you to know you are alive and well, Dean.  I am not losing you!”

“I’ll be safe, Dad.  I’ll be home soon but I’m not going to hide behind our allies and wait.  Me and Cass, we are going to handle this.”  

“I’m not talking you out of this, am I?”

“No.  You taught me to stand my ground.”

“Keep me updated,” John sighed through the phone.  “Stay safe.  Your mother worries.”  

Dean almost chuckled at that but instead just nodded.  “I will.  I’ll call again when I can.”   They hung up with that.  

A few minutes later, Castiel emerged from the bathroom cleaned and fully dressed.  “We need to move.  We’ve been here too long.”  

Without another word, the pair picked up the rest of their belongings with Dean heading to the car and Castiel checking them out the room.  The car was much cleaner now, the trash removed from the backseat and some of the tears repaired in the upholstery.  It still needed a lot of work but at least they could sleep without fearing bodily harm.  

“We need to change cars,” Castiel said after they got everything situated in the car and pulled out the parking lot with Dean in the driver’s seat.  “The hotel has cameras and I’m not one hundred percent sure they didn’t catch the car.”  

“When do you want to ditch it?” Dean ran his hand over the dash imagining how it would look with some repairs.  Replace the cracked dash, change out the instrument panel, and the wobbly gear shift, the engine needed a major overhaul, and a new clutch and this would be a beauty.  He knew the frame was solid and that’s what mattered the most.  

He thought back on the earlier conversation with his father and thought that rebuilding classic cars would be a great physical outlet for the man now that he named Dean the Heir Apparent.  Dean wanted to keep his dad from cast off and left out without John Dean’s plan.  His father was just stubborn enough that he wouldn’t do something he wanted if he thought pity was involved.  John could pour his time and energy into rebuilding all these classic cars and Dean didn’t have to worry.  

“You look deep in thought,” Castiel mentioned over the rumble of the engine.  

Dean gave a weary smirk before he shook his head.  “My dad would love to get his hands on this and rebuild her.  Everyone thinks that John Winchester wouldn’t get his hands dirty, that he gets people to do all kinds of grunt work for him, but it’s not true.  I watched my dad work on engines and cars all day, his hands covered in grime and oil residue, with shredded jeans and dirty tee shirts.  He loved it, working with his hands.  Now that he doesn’t have to run the syndicate, I want him to have a hobby.”  

“And you think that sending him this car would help with that?”  Castiel didn’t seem to think that was a good idea.  

“Well, maybe not this car,” Dean grumbled with a sly glare at the assassin.  “Considering the fact that we are dumping it at the next stop.”  

“Dean, we can leave the car somewhere it can be picked up could by your people after this is over,” Castiel explained while his eyes on the side mirror.  There was very little traffic on the county back road especially at this time of the morning but Castiel didn’t want to let his guard down.  

“Unless we dump this car right here and now, there is no way I could get this back to my dad,” Dean answered with a hint of remorse.  “And I don’t see a car around here so unless you want to walk, there is no way to get this one to my dad.”

   
Dean switched on the radio with that hoping to find a classic rock station that would end the conversation.  He didn’t want to talk about his future plans for John or his family. He just wanted to find Dick Roman and kill that bastard.  If he eliminated that idiot, the Winchesters syndicate would finally be free of the Levis for good.  His family business could prosper without the worry of some asshole with a demigod complex trying to force the expansion of their territory.  

“Take the right fork,” Castiel’s gruff voice pulled Dean from his circular thoughts.  He hadn’t realized he’d been driving on autopilot for the last couple minutes, and almost missed the turn but swerved just in time.  

“Focus on the road, Dean, or I will drive,” Castiel snapped with his fingers buried into the rough texture of his seat belt.  

Dean scoffed at that but kept his mind on the road.  He didn’t need to crash right now, not with two different assassin groups after them.  “I have several allies in this area.”  

“No,” Castiel answered without missing a beat.  “We are staying on the road as long as possible now.  We can’t run the risk of the Demons or the Garrison catching up.”  He glanced out the window watching the bare trees and dried, brown grass pass him by.   

“Where are we going to find a car?”  

“There is a medium sized town about an hour from here.  We should be able to find something there.”  

“Any other plans?  Like where to find some fast cash?”  Dean tapped his thumb against the steering wheel.  He knew their money was dangerously low.  They didn’t have enough to fill the tank again or buy any other supplies.   Stealing would bring unwanted attention or worse, get them caught.  This was not how Dean saw the start of his reign, basically penniless and on the road.  A part of him wanted to defy Castiel and turn the car toward his allies and find temporary protection within those families.   

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Castiel cautioned without taking his eyes off the landscape, “don’t.  We need to stick with the plan and stay on the road.”  

“Fine,” Dean scoffed with a slight shake of his head.  “We’ll do it your way.”    And with that, he drove.  

A little over an hour later, and with the gas needle nearly on E, Dean pulled into the giant parking lot for one of those warehouse stores.   He parked in the very back of the lot while Castiel grabbed their bags from the back seat.  They had a number of options for a new ride thanks to the nearly complete full lot and a lack of security cameras.  

Leaving the Challenger behind, the pair walked the back row of cars looking for something that wouldn’t stand out and could keep them on the road for longer periods of time.  Dean walked passed several SUVs, and sporty looking sedans while Castiel moved toward a minivan.  The assassin glanced in the back trying to see if there were car seats, toys, or any other signs of this being a quick reported and easily found vehicle.  

“A minivan?”  Dean cocked his eyebrow as he strolled up to the assassin.  “You’re going to steal a minivan?  Wouldn’t that get us noticed?”  He glanced in the bag noticing a few books under the front seats.  “Some mom is going to be stranded here with a bunch of kids.”  He hated that idea.  

“Would you rather take that?”  Castiel waved his hand to the blue SMART car parked across from the van.  “I’m sure we could fit in there if you curl up in the back and we leave all the bags.”  

Dean huffed at the suggestion taking that small car would call more attention to them than the minivan.  It would be infuriating to leave all the gear behind and try to buy more without any money.  Plus a little car like that would get them killed if they pulled into a bar.   Could he really steal a family vehicle?  He needed to find something quick, and did a quick sweep of the lot.  Between the trucks, SUVs, and a few coupes, Dean found an older model, Ford Focus.  

“That,” he pointed to the four door sedan a row over and a few spots down.  “The deductible is probably more than the car’s worth.  We would be doing them a favor if we took it.  Plus it’s better than this with the baby on board signs.”  

Castiel made a quick glance at the van then to the sedan.  He knew the sedan would have better gas mileage and if the backseat wasn’t full of junk, they could trade off sleeping back there.  Plus the sedan was a better cover than the van for two men.   He walked toward the car with Dean a few steps behind him.    
“We can’t take this car,” Castiel pointed to the back seat where two car seats faced backward.  

“Are you kidding me?”  Dean threw his hands up in the air.  Of course he had to find another family car in the lot.  

Castiel adjusted the bag on his shoulder before he handed the other one to Dean.  “We need to find something quickly.  If we keep walking around the lot, someone will get suspicious.”  He quickly swept his eyes over the lot trying to determine if they raised an alarm.  No one was close but that didn’t mean much.  They needed to hurry.  He grabbed Dean by the elbow and tugged the hunter heir down the long row of cars stopping at a simple baby blue late model Chevy Nova with an empty back seat.   Before Dean could open his mouth to complain, Castiel shoved Dean against the trunk.  

“Don’t argue with me.  We don’t have time,” he snapped just before he glanced over Dean’s right shoulder and narrowed his eyes.  Two men walked slowly down the aisle toward them appearing perfectly innocent and average enough.  Something about them raised Castiel’s hackles and those instincts were proven correct when they kept looking around to make sure nothing would get in their way.  

“Shit!”  He cursed when one of them made a simple gesture that to the untrained eye would be a simple greeting but to Castiel, it was a sign of a marksmen.  “We need to go now!”  

“What?  What’s going on?”  Dean looked over his shoulder trying to see what Castiel was staring at and just what exactly had Castiel on edge.  He saw two men, both in three piece black suits, casually moving toward them.  “Tell me those aren’t your people.”  

Castiel’s heart dropped when he got a good look at their faces, the strong determination in their mission.  “Not my people but just as bad.  We need to get in this car now! “  

He jumped into action, letting his well trained instincts kick in and ignoring everything else.  He pushed Dean to the passenger side before he pulled up the handle, then opened the door and shoved Dean inside with both supply bags.  “Stay here!  Don’t get out of the car!”  He shouted slamming the door before he rushed around to the front.  

He was about to sneak around the large white van parked beside the Nova to kill the other men when Dean blew that plan to hell.  

“Cass, get in the car and let’s go!”  Dean shouted when Castiel darted off away from the driver’s side.  “Castiel!”  

Castiel heard the ominous sounds of their heavy boots against the pavement coming towards him.  He noted that one man rushed toward the car while the other searched the parking lot for Cass.  He headed back toward their car to head off Dean’s attacker when he felt sharp burst of pain just below his ribs.  Distracted by the threat to Dean, Castiel had been caught off guard by the other man making it possible for him to stabbed.  He knew he shouldn’t but Cass reached for the knife, and in one smooth motion, pulled it out, then slit the man’s throat.  Castiel knew this was a demon when black smoke poured out of the man’s mouth.  With one threat removed, Castiel hurried back only to hear a gunshot ring out.  He rounded the van and found Dean standing beside the car with the shotgun in his hands and the other attacker on the ground with a good portion of his chest missing and tendrils of black smoke floating from his chest.  

“Fucker tried to stab me,” Dean growled before he shot around round into the man’s chest.  He kicked the dead man in the head for good measure then looked up at Cass. 

“Wanted to make sure he was dead.”  

Holding his side, Castiel walked around to the driver’s side.  “Let’s get the hell out of here now.”  

“Dude, you’re not driving.  You’re bleeding.  Get your ass in the passenger seat,” Dean  ordered as he walked around to the driver’s seat.  He pushed Castiel’s shoulder making the other man go around to the other side.  

Quickly Dean hotwired the Nova and put the vehicle in reverse.  He stepped on the gas, backed out of the space with a fluid turn then put the car in drive.  He sped out the parking lot with tires squealing against the pavement.  

Castiel relaxed just a hair to keep himself from bleeding out so quickly.  He needed to find something to stem the flow but Dean had other ideas.  

“Why the hell did you leave me to sit in the car?”   He was angry and offended that Castiel thought so useless in a fight.  He was a hunter and took down monsters and saved the day.  He didn’t need to be tossed out of a fight.

“I had a plan but you fucked it up when you shouted for me,” he answered digging between the seats and the side door pockets from some kind of makeshift bandage.  

“The plan was to ditch me and have them kill me?”  Dean slammed his palm into the steering wheel in a fit of anger.  

Castiel shot Dean a dirty look before he tried to twist around and look in the back seat only to grimace at the feel of blood pouring out of his side.  “No, the plan was to kill one of them quickly before they saw us then get the other one but someone shouted my name and they found us.”  

“Don’t shove me in a car and tell me to stay,” Dean growled before he shoved Castiel against the seat.  “Stop wiggling.  You’re going to bleed to death if you keep moving.”    
Dean reached over and popped open the glove box.  A roll of condoms, several packets of flavored lube, and a variety of hardcore gay porn fell into Castiel’s lap.  

“I didn’t plan that,” Dean quipped at the sight of their findings.  

Then tension broke with that and Castiel started to laugh uncontrollably.  Here he was with a stab wound to the gut, bleeding quite profusely, with a DVD of a man suspended in chains being double fisted on his lap.  How the hell is this my life, his expression read.  Castiel pressed his hands into the wound staunch the bleeding as possible.  While the wound wasn’t deep and probably missed all the vital organs, he knew that if he didn’t tend to it, it would be deadly.  

“First drug store you see, stop.  I need supplies,” Castiel ordered with his eyes on the road.  

“Sit back and concentrate  not bleeding to death on me,” Dean snapped stepping harder on the gas, “I know where I’m going.  Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”  

  
Cass went to make a snarky remark when shock finally hit his system and he passed out in the passenger seat.


	9. Reading is Fundamental

Dean paced the length of the guest bedroom where Castiel laid bandaged and bruised, still unconscious on the bed.  He had been cooped in this room for two days now, shortly after they arrived at the Trans’ compound.  Linda Tran took them in no questions asked at first but now Dean had trouble shaking her.  She wanted to know what Dean dragged to her door and if this would affect her family.  He wanted to get out of there, away from all the questions without answers but he wasn’t going to leave Cass until he knew the assassin would be okay.  

  
He walked to the window and looked out thinking that maybe he could climb out and drop to the ground without breaking his neck.  This thought lasted until he actually opened the window and found a straight drop down right into the welcoming arms of several bodyguards.  He closed the window before he moved to Castiel’s bed side.  

“If you die on me you fucker, I will never forgive you,” Dean hissed the words, angry that Castiel had been hurt protecting him.  “You stupid son of a bitch, I can take care of myself.  You didn’t need to get to hurt because of me.”  He turned to his back to the bedridden man and stared out the window for a long second.  “I don’t trust easy and I trust you even though you’re not blood.”  He sat down on the edge of the bed looking over his shoulder as he spoke.  “You know what’s funny?  If I had seen you in a bar, I would have hit on you.  Blue eyes, dark hair, kind of a weird, little dorky dude, my type basically.”  He smiled one side of his mouth curling up a bit.  “Not cool being an assassin and trying to kill me but I will you say you have some skills, so don’t you die on me.  Not until I tell you, you can.”    
Just as he finished his speech, the door creaked open, revealing a shy, awkward, young man clutching a thick, Advanced Physics textbook with a blonde haired, blue-eyed boy in Weiner Hut uniform.  

“My mom wants to talk to you,” the boy with the textbook stammered keeping his eyes on the floor.  He seemed nervous around Dean like he didn’t know what to expect.  

“All right,” Dean sighed knowing he had to face the firing squad known as Linda Tran.  He stood up then walked out the room.  He followed the pair to the office at the end of the hall and stepped inside after textbook boy opened the door.  

Inside was a petite, older Asian lady with a stern, authoritarian expression sitting at a desk glancing down at ledgers.  Her expression softened when she looked up and saw her son.  

“You have a cello lesson in ten minutes, Kevin,” Linda reminded the boy before he shuffled off.  With him out the room, all of her attention was set to Dean.  “I’m assuming you’re here to tell me why you showed up on my desk step with this problem.”  

Dean barely managed to suppress the urge to squirm under her harsh glare.  He really didn’t want to be there but he needed help quick and she was closest.  He licked his lips without thinking trying to gather his thoughts.  

“He’s not a problem,” Dean stated simply, “we’ll be out of your hair once he’s on his feet.  You have my family’s gratitude.”  

“How many angels and demons will be at my door because you showed up at my door with this stranger, bleeding and unconscious?”  She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest glaring hard at Dean.  She wasn’t in the mood for games and gratitude was the last gift she needed.  

“No one,” Dean answered quickly.  “They’re all dead.”  

Linda had to take Dean at his word but trusting was a different story.  She made a mental note to double the ground security and keep Kevin close to home for the next few weeks.  “If your problems come into my house, Dean,” she warned coldly, “your house will be the one to clean them up.”  

Dean just nodded, knowing he carried their tracks well that no one would find them, before he turned and walked out of Ms. Tran’s office.  He continued down the hallway, intent on finding Kevin’s room to thank the young man.  After all, it hadn’t been for Kevin pleading  their case, they would be still on the road with Castiel bleeding in the passenger seat.  At least now, Castiel was patched up and resting.  

Dean walked down the hall trying to figure out which bedroom was Kevin’s when he heard another male voice call out ‘Kevin’.  Figuring this was the cello instructor, Dean walked toward the sound.  He gave a quick rap on the door before he opened it catching Kevin wrapped up in the arms of the Weiner Hut boy.  The pair jerked apart quickly with the blonde falling off the bed and onto the floor with an ‘ow’.  

Kevin looked over at Dean, pale faced and frightened at being caught in the act.  “Don’t tell my mom!”  He begged.  

Dean, for his part, looked confused and a bit taken back because last he heard, Kevin was with a young woman named Channing.  He opened his mouth to say something only to close before he tried again.  “You’re busy.  I’ll come back later.” 

Kevin jumped off the bed and grabbed Dean’s sleeve.  “Wait, I can explain.  Don’t tell my mom.” 

Dean gave the young man a quizzical look that read ‘well, I’m waiting for that explanation’.  

Kevin stammered for a bit, trying to figure out what to say.  He wasn’t sure what Dean would do with the information and he didn’t want his mom to find out.  He looked over his shoulder to the blonde who stood up slowly.  

“We met after Channing died,” his voice was soft, tinged with sadness.  

“I won’t tell your mom,” Dean dropped the subject not wanting to upset the young pair anymore.  “I wanted to say thank you for what you said to your mom.  Getting her to take us in and all.”  

Kevin visibly relaxed as did the blonde the tension drained out of the pair.  The blonde sat back on the bed and picked one of the textbooks scattered about while Kevin and Dean talked.  

Kevin finally looked up with a slight smirk proud that Dean Winchester was thanking him.  “I’m glad to help when I can.”  He brought his attention to the blonde and his smiled widened.  “This is Alfie,” he introduced the pair with a light blush and proverbial hearts in his eyes.  “He’s my angel.”  

Dean nodded with his patented.  “Good job, kid.”  

Alfie for his part turned bright pink with all the attention and tried to bury himself under Kevin’s covers.  He seemed so shy around the older man.  

“I’m going to let you two get back to ‘studying’,” he emphasized the last word with a knowing smirk.  He pulled a golden foil packet out of his pocket and handed to Kevin with a ‘be safe and have fun’ before he left the room.  He made sure to close to the door behind him while Kevin and Alfie seemed to want to sink the floor.  

Dean thought Kevin was a good kid and was glad the young man wasn’t being raised as a hunter.  He had enough to deal with being a prophet.   According to the Society of Letters, prophets were incredibly smart and spoke of events to come.  Prophets needed to be protected because they were highly valuable assets and throughout history were captured and used by various cults and dictators.  

Dean didn’t know how but every prophet had the ability to understand and translate ancient languages.  Prophets could pierce the veil between the living and the dead.  That power drew men like Dick Roman to the Trans.   After Mr. Tran’s untimely death by betrayal, Linda managed to wrestle control back from those that killed her husband and vowed never to let Kevin be used.  She kept her word and made sure that Kevin knew what was out there and after him but kept him guarded and warded.  

Dean opened the door to Castiel’s room, scanned it to make sure no one had been in there, then walked over and checked on Cass.  Nothing changed, his assassin still slept on, and he grew bored very quickly.  He wanted Cass to wake up so they could talk, move, or just do something.  The three year old inside him came out and Dean started making clicking and fart noises with his mouth and air drumming his fingers against his thigh.  

“I never want to wake up to that sound again,” Castiel groaned as he slowly opened his eyes then blinked taking in his surroundings.  “Where are we?”  

“Friendly territory,” Dean answered all his restless fidgeting easing. 

“Friendly territory?”  Castiel looked around the room, scanning for a quick, efficient escape route.  

“Kevin’s a prophet,”  Dean offered as he leaned back in his chair.   “You can rest a few days before we get back on the road.”  

“We’ll get back on the road tonight,” Castiel answered ignoring the sharp pain in his side when he tried to prop himself up on his shoulder.  “We can’t stay still.  We can’t let them catch up to us again.”

“You were just stabbed and you need to take it easy,” Dean reminded the assassin before he moved to the side of the bed.  “Don’t make me tie you down,” he teased with a gentle pat to Castiel’s shoulder.  

Castiel’s eyes widened at the words and when he blinked, Erik stood in front of him, dressed as a cop with a naughty smirk and silk ties in his hands.  

“Don’t make me tie you down, sir.  I’ll have to take you down to the station.”  

The assassin was very confused at the sight of his young lover in tight black pants and shirt.  How in the world had Erik gotten his hands on that?  Castiel drank in the sight of Erik’s muscle straining against the fabric.  How far that young man had come since he first arrived in Castiel’s home?  Gone was the vacant, far off look in his eyes replaced with a deep love and admiration and he filled out his frame adding muscles and color.  And now Erik was surprising him after missions?  

_“What is this about?”  He asked as he slid out of his black leather jacket and pulled of the matching gloves.  “Why are you dressed like that?”_

_Erik bit his bottom lip playfully as he walked toward his lover.  “I have to arrest you,” he purred slowly wrapping the silk around Castiel’s wrists.  There was this beautiful humor in his pout.  “You left me all alone in this big house without a picture to remember you by.  I had to close my eyes and imagine what your lips felt like.  I didn’t like it.”  He pulled the silk tight around Castiel’s wrists before he pushed the man against the door and kissed him fully on the lips.  He slipped his hand under the waistband of Castiel’s pants then eased his head back.  “I remember you kept saying ‘fuck the police’ before we came here.  I thought you would like it.”_

_“You are my special boy,” Castiel purred before he leaned forward and tried to capture Erik’s lips again only to be rebuffed with a naughty smirk._

_“No, I’m in charge today,” Dean teased before he unzipped Castiel’s  pants.  Dressed in the police uniform, he dropped to his knees, mouthing Castiel’s length._

_“You are going to be the death of me,” Castiel moaned his head dropping back against the door as Dean's warm breath curled along the side of his cock.  His eyes went wide when a warm  mouth took the head of his cock._

_“Hey!”  Castiel found himself looking at Dean’s fingers snapping several times right in front of his nose.  He blinked a few times before he could focus on what was in front of him._

_“Where did you go?”_

Castiel shook his head then leaned back against the stacked pillows.  Dean replacing Erik in his day dream unnerved him in too many ways.  How could he allow that to happen?    
“We need to leave,” he changed the subject since he wasn’t about to tell Dean anything about his past unless it pertains to keeping them alive.  “The fact that someone caught up to us should be enough of a reason for you to stay on the road.”  

“To me it means we need a better hiding place,” Dean grumbled, “and that still doesn’t explain the far off expression you had.”  

“I’m not talking about it,” Castiel hissed before he pushed himself only to grimace when the move pulled on his wound.  

Dean scoffed at the idiotic, stubborn move before he eased Castiel back against the bed.  He wanted to push but figured if he did, Cass would definitely get out of bed.  “We are staying right here for a few days.  This place is safer than a car and we get free food.”  

“Dean,” Castiel warned only for Dean to hold up his hand.

“Listen to me, we are staying ,” Dean was done with the arguing.  “We are staying put until you’re patched up enough to move without hurting.  Shouldn’t be longer than a day maybe two.  Deal with it.”  

“This is a very bad idea,” Castiel made one last attempt to convince Dean that they needed to get out of there right now.  “The Garrison isn’t just going to give up and who knows how close the Demons are.  If we stay, the second we leave they will be on us.”  

Dean’s set jaw, slightly twisted up lips, crinkled nose, and furrowed brow gave away his thoughts which clearly read ‘don’t care we are staying’.  “Get some rest and we’ll see how it goes later.”  He left Castiel then wanting to get a bite to eat before he called his family.  

“What do you mean you sent  Sam back to Stanford?”  Dean must have heard his mother wrong.  There was no way they would have let Sam out of their sight.  “We can’t protect him there.  He’s out of our reach.”  

“No, he’s not,” Mary sounded tired and stressed, a dangerous combination for the older woman.  He sighed before Dean heard his mother drop down heavily onto her bed and John mumble something in the background.  “He didn’t go without protection.”  

“Mom, how many times has Sam decided he wanted to appear normal and slip the guards?  He started that at four after you took us shopping.  He was bored and went to play at that playground.”  Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.  Looking out for Sam was his responsibility and if something happened while he was in the wind, Dean would never forgive himself.  

“He’s not going to slip his guards,” Mary answered.  “We have someone at his side at all times.  Don’t worry about that.”  

“What do you do, pay someone to be his girlfriend?”  Dean joked only to be met with a strange silence on the other end.  “Mom?”  

“We don’t pay her,” Mary admitted quietly, “we just made sure one of the Campbell’s best trained agents met him during a run and she might have asked him out on a date. They might have moved in together about three months ago.”  

“She’s one of ours?”  Dean had no idea about that Mary managed to put someone that close to Sam.  Considering Dean found out Sam had a girlfriend less than a week ago, he was very surprised that his parents knew about it.   “How long?”  

“I wasn’t going to let Sam just go off to Stanford without a well placed plan,” Mary explained with that ‘I am your mother.  I will do the same for you’ mother bear protectiveness.  “We both know he’s stubborn and wouldn’t want the protection.  So I made sure he had protection and he never knew.”  

“Mom, does Dad know about this?”  

“He’s the one that suggested it.  It’s an old Men of Letters’ trick.” Mary answered in such a way that Dean heard the pride and wide smile in her voice.  “And don’t pout.  We would have done the same to you if you picked a school a thousand miles away.”  

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it like it grew a tongue and licked him.  What was wrong with his parents?  He understood their need to have bodyguards on him and Sam when they were younger and knew they were safe but secretly putting someone so close, that was just over the top.   He heard his mother sigh when he finally put the phone back to his ear.  

“He’s fine, John,” he heard Mary say, “he’s with the Trans.  No I’m not going to tell him…”

“Dean, we haven’t found anyone named Castiel.  He gave you a fake name,” John’s voice was strong and confident.  “What family did he come from?  Is he even in a family?  Can he protect you?  And why is the Garrison on your tail?”  

“He can protect me,” the words made Dean’s mouth curve into a smile, “he did it already.”  

“Is he a hunter?  What family is he with?  Is he well trained?”

“He’s not a hunter or from a family,” Dean admitted before he leaned back against the seat.  “He’s just some guy that got caught up in this.  He’s good in a fight though.”  

“Dean, do you honestly think I believe he’s just some guy?  Who is he really?  Did he have something to do with the house being shot up?”  

“I told you, he didn’t have anything to do with that,” Dean answered trying not to grind his teeth together.   “Cass was just in the wrong place at the right time.  I stole his car with him in it.”  

“Give me a last name then, Dean,” John pleaded with this intense desperation in his voice.  He needed Dean to get back home, not because he needed Dean to take over the family but because he couldn’t help his boy during this time.  “Give me a last name so I can vet him.  He might have been a Levi plant.”  

“Dad, we’ve been on the road for nearly a week now.  If he was a plant, he had plenty of opportunities to kill me.”  

“Dean, I’m not kidding.  He could be deadly.  He could be a shifter, a ghoul, a monster.”  

“I’m not joking.  If Cass wanted to kill me, he would have done it by now.  He could have crashed the car, killed me in my sleep, shot me.  He hasn’t and right now I’m trusting him.  He shot two demons and killed some angels.  He’s not a threat.”   

“Dean.”  

“It’s Murphy,” Dean blurted out because ‘if anything can go wrong, it will’ popped into his head at that moment.  “Castiel Murphy.”  He prayed there  would be a real ‘Castiel Murphy’ somewhere in the world because if John didn’t find that name, Dean would rather a hit man get him.  

John’s heavy sigh came clearly through the phone.  “I’ll look him up in the morning.  How long are you staying with the Trans? And what are they asking for in return for this favor?”

“Assurance that if something were to come of this, we will clean up,” Dean answered.  

“Dean.”  

“It’s nothing,” Dean quickly added before John could continue.  “I’m fine and Cass is resting.  For a weird little guy, he’s strong and knows how to fight.  There was an altercation and he got hurt.  I’m fine.  We’re resting here and then we’ll be back on the road.”  

“You are not going back on the road,” John growled and Dean heard fabric rustling like John was getting dressed.  “You are staying put.  I’m coming with a group to get you.  We can fight them on our home turf.”   

“Not this again,” Dean groaned with a pinch to the bridge of his nose.  A headache built behind his eyes from all John’s posturing.  “Dad, you are not coming after me.  You can’t come after me.  You need to stay there.  I’ll look weak if my father comes to rescue me.  I’m fine, Dad.  Stay home with mom surrounding by the guards.”  

“I’m going with him!”  Dean heard Mary shout let led to Mary and John squabbling amongst themselves for a few minutes.   Between the ‘I am coming/no you’re not/he’s my son’ and something that sounded like ‘I taught you how to fight.  I can handle a weapon, bookworm’, Dean covered his mouth to keep from laughing. He could tell that Mary won the argument when John let out a low growl then a body drop onto a bed.  

“We’re staying put,” he grumbled again, the deep unhappiness and stubborn reluctance to admit defeat heavy in his voice.  “I don’t like it.  You shouldn’t be out there without guards.”  

“I remember you taking us out several times without guards,” Dean smiled at the memories of his youth.  Baseball games, late night ice cream runs, road trips just because, Dean remembered them as times when it was just two little boys and their dad out for the day.  “You taught us how to fight, Dad.   You put a gun in my hand at age six because you wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get hurt.  You made sure I knew how to use it and when to.  I’m a damn good shot, Dad.  You told me that.” 

“I’m proud of you,” John admitted.  

“Thanks, Dad.”  

“Your mom wants to talk to you again,” John handed the phone off to Mary.  

“Be careful, baby,” Mary’s smoothing, calm voice eased the tension building in Dean.   “Thank the Trans for their hospitality.”  

“I will,” he promised then talked with his mom for several minutes.  Talking to his mom, listening to her explain about her garden, the words gave him a sense of home and normalcy.  They calmed him and made him feel so normal instead of a man on the run with the assassin sent to kill him.  When he finally hung up, Dean felt lighter than he had since this whole debacle started.  His mom knew what he needed to hear and Dean was grateful for it.  

Once he was done with that phone call, he went to check on Cass.  Dean found the assassin fast asleep, limbs flung in every direction, blankets kicked to the foot of the bed.  He pulled the covers up and gently tucked them around Castiel’s shoulder so he wouldn’t get cold.  

“He’s recovering well,” Alfie commented from the doorway hoping he wasn’t intruding on some personal moment.  “His wound wasn’t deep and it missed the vital organs.”  

“We were lucky,” Dean admitted as he crept out the room.  He closed Castiel’s door and walked with Alfie through the house.   “We aren’t sure who it was but they don’t seemed to be following us.”  

“How long do you plan to stay?”  

“A few days.  Long enough for Cass to rest up.”  

“Good.” 

Alfie didn’t follow Dean to the kitchen and instead moving into the living area where Kevin had his books spread out on the floor.  Dean watched the blonde settle next to Kevin the pair smiling slyly at one another.  He leaned against the door jam and just watched the pair for a few minutes.  He remembered when he first met Kevin, and how shy he had been.  At eight years old, Kevin hid behind the legs of one of his guards, refusing to talk and never made any eye contact unless it was his mom.  Nine years later, Kevin grew out of the shyness and into a bright young man with the chance at an amazing future.  

“He’s a very good kid,” Ms. Tran’s voice came up to Dean’s side from behind.  “I like the way he listens when Kevin talks.  Most people just ignore him because he’s not a heir or a soldier on the front lines.  Alfie listens though.”  

Dean turned away from the teens to face the Tran Family Head.  He realized she looked younger now, with a smile on her face instead of a scowl.  In some ways, Linda Tran reminded him of his own mother and how protective she was then Dean and Sam were younger.   

“Kevin isn’t like you, Dean.” Linda stood with her back to the kitchen sink.  “He’s not trained in the ways killing monsters.  He tends to trust in people and hasn’t been exposed to all the harshness in this world.  I tried to protect him as much as I could but then Channing died.  I can’t prove it but I’m sure one of my rivals had something to do with her death.”

“Tell me you didn’t hire Alfie to be his protector?” 

“No!”  Linda answered in that ‘you must be joking’ tone.   “That would backfire in my face with Kevin running away.”  She motioned for him to sit down at the dinner table.  “Alfie has been a source of support and friendship to Kevin.”  

Dean knew enough about mothers to know when he was going to be asked for a favor.   “What do you need me to do?”  

“Look into his past for me,” Linda said quickly.   “I’m sure it’s nothing and I already did but I want a second opinion.   Your family has a lot of access and if he goes back clean after your search, then I’ll know that Kevin’s in safe hands.  Consider it the payment for taking you two in.”  

“I’ll have my best man on it.”  

“Thank you.”   She watched Kevin and Alfie carefully while she made it look like her attention was solely on Dean.  “I want you to promise me something.  The Winchesters will protect my son no matter what.  He will have your protection.”  

“Of course,” Dean promised.  

“Kevin’s all I’ve got,” she admitted, “when I started this, all families agreed to the same rules.   Not in the business, you’re no target.  Now rules have changed.  No one is off limits.  Doesn’t matter if you’re out, you’re a target.  I’ve kept him away from all this for a reason.  Kevin doesn’t need a target on his back or a bounty on his head.  I don’t know what happened, I don’t know who that man is but whatever you brought to my door…”  

“The Winchesters do not pledge loyalty easily,” Dean hoped to avoid this conversation for a bit longer, “we have helped your group for years, and you have supported our growth into the Northern Territory.  I have no plan on turning my back on anyone.”  

Linda nodded before they sat down at the table.   “I can offer two days worth of protection under my roof before the family heads must be called to meeting.  I would prefer not having to explain to some of the unsavory families why the Winchester Heir apparent showed up at my door with an injured man who no one knows.  I know he’s not whatever you told your people and as long as he’s no danger to anyone in my house, I don’t care.”  

“He’s no danger.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Ms. Tran stood then walked into the living room.  Dean walked the grounds until sunset.  He checked on Castiel and when he saw the man was asleep, he retreated to the bedroom Linda offered.  He needed all of the rest he could get while he had the chance.   He laid on top the covers for a few minutes before he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.  

_“You’re amazing,” Castiel moaned into Dean’s ear as a firm hand wrapped itself around his cock and slowly pumped up and down, “so responsive, so beautiful.”_

_“Don’t stop,” Dean groaned, his head thrown back against the pillows, legs spread wide to give Castiel better access. “Please don’t stop.”_

_“Don’t plan on it, Dean,” the assassin teased before he circled one finger around the sensitive rim of muscles in between Dean’s cheeks. “I plan on having you all night and day.”_

_With that, he slowly slid a slick finger into the other man._

_Dean’s hips arched off the bed as he panted hotly.  He wanted this so badly.  The sensations running through his body were intense, perfect moments meant to give only pleasure.  “Please, more,” he begged._

_“Anything for you, baby,” Castiel chuckled before he added a second finger working the muscles loose.  The artist leaned forward and licked the head of Dean’s cock.  “You taste so good,” he growled before he added a third finger._

_“Fuck me,” Dean moaned as he pushed his hips down on the artist’s fingers.  “Please.”_

  
_“As you wish,” Castiel slowly slid his fingers out of Dean.  He placed both hands on the hunter’s hips before he eased the other man onto his bent knees.  The assassin reached in between them, took hold of his own cock, then lined up his hard length with Dean’s hole.  “You ready, lover?”  He purred before he eased himself into the other man._

_Dean gasped at the feeling of this beautiful man inside him, filling him up so nicely, making him feel wanted and desired.  It had been too long since he had been with someone this perfect.  The perfect touch, the right amount of kissing, and licking on his sensitive areas._

_“How you doing, Dean?”  Castiel ran his hands over Dean’s thighs before he slid them under the hunter’s back then lifted him up and pressed their chests together.  “You look blessed out, baby.”_

_“Why do you feel so good inside me?”  Dean questioned as he brought his arms around the assassin’s shoulders and hugged him tight.  “How can this be so perfect?”  He whispered before he pressed their lips together.  His breath hitched as the artist rolled his hips forward then backward.  “Yes, yes,” he moaned in between kisses._

_The sex seemed to last for hours until Dean came.  His muscles tightened, his heart seemed to stop, and in that moment, he understood why the French called it ‘la petite mort’ as he slumped against the broad, muscular chest of his lover.  He felt Dean ease him back onto the bed before the other man slipped out of him._

_“Don’t go,” Dean mumbled as he tried to reach for the other man, “don’t leave.  Stay, Cass.  Stay with me.”_

_Castiel smiled before he leaned over and kissed Dean’s lips again.  “Not going to leave you, Dean.  I’m going to stay right by your side.”_

Dean woke up to find himself still in his clothes, on top of his bed covers, with a raging hard on, and the feeling of phantom hands touched his arms.  He moved his arm and his fingers touched a book left open at his side.  He didn’t remember reading before he went to bed and figured he must have thrashed around in his sleep and knocked it over.   He knew he couldn’t face the rest of the compound like he was so he gathered his bath stuff and went take a shower.  When he emerged from the bathroom about thirty minutes later, he could face the world without any sign of his dreams.

Midmorning found Dean back in Linda’s office with Ash on the line.   

“Ms. Tran, your son’s tutor is clean.  No parking tickets, no arrests, hasn’t been in a car accident.  Grew up in Oasis Plains, Oklahoma.”     
Linda nodded with a relieved smile.  She was very glad that Alfie didn’t have some sordid past with a number of arrests.  Alfie wouldn’t hurt Kevin and her son had a friend that was just a friend.  

“Thank you, Dean.  I appreciate this.” 

Dean was glad that Alfie turned out to be truthful as well.  He didn’t want Kevin’s crush to be some kind of plant or spy.  

Lunch found Dean in the burrowed bedroom again on the phone with John.  

“Ash said you had him run a background check on one of Linda’s people?”  

“On Kevin’s cello tutor.  She wanted to make sure he didn’t have some alternative motive.”  

“Does he?”  

“Not the kind that would bring trouble for us.”  

John made a hmph sound through the phone.  “Sounds like  there might be trouble later.  Is there something I should know?”  

“No.”  

“Dean, I know when you’re lying.  Your voice goes up at the end.”  

“It’s not anything bad.  I just saw something and I was asked to keep it secret.”  

“Is Alfie a vampire?   Because if he’s a vampire, you have to end him.”  

“Alfie is not a vampire.”

“A shifter?”

“Dad. He’s not a vampire.  He’s not a monster.  It’s just that I might have caught them in the middle of something.”  

“Middle of what?”  

“Dad.”  

“Is this like the time I caught you with that Aaron guy in the back of shop?”  

“Dad!”  

“Well, is it?”  

“Yes.”  

“Then do what I did.”  

“You told me to wear a condom and make sure if anything got knocked over to put it back.”  Dean thought about that for a couple of breaths.  He had been embarrassed and frightened about getting caught that he never thought about why John didn’t yell or shout like he heard other parents did.  “Why didn’t you yell at me?  You caught me with a guy.”  

“I caught you with a girl the month before, Dean.  I didn’t yell at you then.”

“But you caught me with a guy.  I heard the stories.  A parent catches their kid with someone they don’t like and it doesn’t end pretty.”

“So?”

“Dad, come on.  You have to know where this is going.”  

“No, Dean.  I don’t.”  

Dean rubbed his hand down his face with a low grunt.  He wasn’t the ‘talk about your emotions’ type and got that from his father.   “Dad, you’re not known as being some giant softie that takes in stray animals and bakes cookies.  You’re kind of a hard ass.  Having a son who likes other guys isn’t the kind of thing everyone accepts.”  

“So that’s what this is about?  You think because of my background I wouldn’t accept you?”  Dean heard the edge of hurt and disillusionment in John’s voice.  

“Of course!  You’re a Marine and a hunter.” 

“I wasn’t always a hunter.  I grew up surrounded by the Men of Letters.  Some of those men loved, lived,  and slept with their comrades.  Cuthbert was in love with your grandfather.  It was unrequited but it didn’t matter.  I saw a lot of death during the war and learned something about myself.  As long as the guy next to you had your back, it didn’t matter if he enjoyed the company of other men.  A Marine is a Marine no matter if they love John or Jane.”  

“So you never thought of disowning me?”  

Dean heard John’s heavy sigh then the sound of John dropping down into his favorite chair.  This was longest conversation the two were had about Dean’s sexuality.  

"No.  I wasn’t going to push you away because of who you slept with.   I never cared about that as you knew what you were doing.  Why would you think I throw you out?”  

“Caleb’s parents did.”  

“His parents are idiots who cared more about social standing than their children.  I’m not Caleb’s parents.  I figured you liked who you liked.  I know you didn’t have the most normal childhood being raised as the Hunter Heir and as a Letter but we tried to make sure you boys knew how to be your own men. Sam like ladies.   You like men and women.   What does that matter to me?”  

Dean didn’t really know what to say.  He always thought that John was disappointed in him for being with men.  He remembered how his dad looked the other way on so many occasions.  

John continued when Dean didn’t answer.  “I almost lost everything in that fire, you, Sammy, your mom.  I never wanted to feel that terror again.  I never told anyone this, but when I was hurt, I had this vision of what might have happened.  Your mom died in that fire and I raised you boys on the road.  I was so angry.  I grew obsessed with killing the man that took your mom away and I ignored my boys.  You grew up scared of me, Dean but followed my orders like an abused puppy.  I made you raise Sam.  I made a little boy raise his baby brother and I didn’t care.  What kind of father does that to his sons?  What kind of man turns his four year old son into a full time caregiver?  Doesn’t celebrate his sons’ birthdays or acts like he gives a damn?  When I came out of that, I swore to myself, that would never happen.  You are my son; you always will be. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“Thanks, Dad.”  

“Contact your grandparents.  Samuel wants to attack the Levis for what they did and Deanne is doing her damnedest to talk him out of it.  I think if he hears it from you, he’ll listen.”  John wasn’t happy about that at all.  If the Campbells declared an open war on the Levis, the Winchesters would be on the front lines with their people taking the heavy fire.  John wouldn’t have a say in the battle plans and he would bear the brunt of the costs.  

“I’ll talk to him right after this,” Dean promised.  “Have you heard from Sam?”  

“He’s doing well.  Liking the new house.”  

“You’re not happy about that?”  

“He should have talked to me first.  I could have made sure the area was a safe zone.  I had to google the damn address to find out the crime rate.  At least he picked a low crime area with a strong police presence with very few of those mysterious, unsolved crimes.  I want to go down there myself but Mary keeps telling me to wait until I’m invited.  I’m his father.  I should be able to visit and make sure Sam’s not living next door to a witches’ coven or some ancient god.”  

Dean talked with his father a few more minutes then hung up the phone.  He groaned to himself knowing that Grandpa Campbell was not an easy man to debate.  

The phone call to the Campbells lasted longer with Dean finally managing to talk Samuel out of declaring war on the Levis.  At least he averted a bloodbath during this craziness but nothing would stop Grandpa Campbell from sending reinforcements to the Trans.  That was problematic considering Dean had an assassin with him.  After the phone calls, Dean decided they would be leaving the Trans a day earlier than he planned.  He hoped Castiel would be well enough to handle hours on the road.  

Castiel woke up to the sound of two unfamiliar voices talking in hushed tones.  He kept his breathing steady, listening as well as he could, trying to figure out if they were friend or foe.  

“Kevin, you are not leaving the compound,” a woman’s voice, older and wise, filled with a great concern - a mother’s voice, Castiel concluded, “we are on lockdown for the immediate future.”  

“I’ll have Alfie with me,” a young man’s voice, the son Kevin, tried to reason, “we’re going to the movies with some friends.  We won’t be alone.”  

“You are not going and that is final!”  The mother announced followed by the sounds of shuffling footsteps.  

A few moments later, Castiel’s door opened and a young Asian man walked in looking forlorn and depressed.  “Sorry, wrong room.”  He mumbled with his head tucked low and turned to leave.  

“It’s okay,” Castiel sat up against the headboard.  He looked over the young man, compiled a quick threat level, and decided there wasn’t one.  “You’re the prophet?”

“Yes.”  The boy rocked gently on the balls of his feet.  Castiel could tell he didn’t want to talk about that part of his life.

“You’re going to be a hunter?”  

“No, I’m going to Princeton in the fall,” Kevin answered finally looking up at the assassin.  “My dad died because of the business.  My mom doesn’t want that to happen to me.”  

“So you’re outside of the organizations while under the protection of the Families?”  Castiel sensed the boy walked a very fine line between law-abiding civilian and the secretive underbelly.  

“It’s hard, you know,” Kevin admitted with a slight shrug, “knowing what’s going on when everyone tries to keep it from me.  Like tonight, I wanted to go to the movies with some friends but now I’m stuck here under lock and key.  Nothing’s going to happen but if I try to explain, my mom just says it’s not right all the time.”  

“Stay under that protection for as long as you can,” Castiel advised with a sense of knowing regret in his voice.  “Live your life but be smart.  If you’re seen as a weakness for a more powerful person, you can be exploited.  Don’t let that happen.”  

Kevin opened his mouth to reply when the door opened behind him and Dean poked his head inside.  “I didn’t know you had company.  I’ll come back.”  

“I was just leaving,” Kevin quickly added before Dean could leave.

Dean stepped into the room while Kevin hurried out.  

“My granddad is sending some reinforcements,” Dean explained with a sigh.  He dropped down into the chair next to Castiel’s bed.  “The Trans are fine with it but we can’t be here when they get here.  The second the Campbells get a look at you, they are going to know you’re not just some guy that accidentally got wrapped up in this.  They will know you’re enhanced.”  

“When are we leaving?”  Considering he wanted to get the hell out of there, the second he woke up, Castiel was quite happy with this turn of events.  

“Couple hours,” Dean answered with a slight nod.  “The Trans are letting us use a dummy car with fake plates.  Close enough to untraceable for a day maybe two.”  

“We should leave now,” Castiel threw off the covers with a grimace as he pulled on the makeshift stitches.  “If we can’t be here when your people get here, we need to go now.”  

“Cass, we got at least an hour before we need to be out the door,” Dean explained.  “You can rest a bit more.  Don’t push yourself.”  

“I have survived much worse,” Castiel growled swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  He held his side as he stood up and looked around for his clothes.  “Let’s go.”    
Dean rolled his eyes because he couldn’t reason with Castiel.  If the injured man wanted to get back on the road now, nothing Dean said or did would change that mind.  “Let me tie up some loose ends here.  You get ready.”  Dean left Cass to his own devices with that.  He wanted to talk to the kid one more time before he left and extend another olive branch to Linda Tran.  

While Dean made his last minute plans, Castiel found his clothes and dressed.   He just finished putting on his shoes when the door creaked open and Alfie shuffled inside looking down at his cell phone.  

“Kevin, we need to leave right now if we want to get…”  The words died in his throat as his blue eyes widened in slight fear and awe.  

“Castiel?”  There was a weak tremble in his voice as he looked around the room for a quick escape route.  The organization’s most dangerous weapon was right in front of him.    
“What are you doing here, Samandriel?”  The older assassin asked coolly having sized up the potential opponent.  He had no idea that one of his former students embedded himself with the Trans and he hated the surprise.  “Who is the target?”  He squared his shoulders readying himself for an attack.  

Samandriel glanced over his left shoulder to see if the door was closed.  He didn’t want anyone else to overhear their conversation.  “I don’t have one,” he answered softly.    
Castiel tilted his head to the left as he narrowed his eyes.  He hated it when someone lied to him.  “I know that’s not true.  The Garrison would never allow you to stay here if you didn’t have a target.”  Tension built in his muscles with every breath.   He waited for the first sign of aggression.  “Who’s got the bull’s eye on their chest?  The boy?  His mother?”    
“No one, Castiel,” Samandriel answered.  “I don’t have a target.  It’s not what you think.”  

“Like Hell, it’s not!”  He growled closing the short distance between himself and the smaller man.  He was angry, upset at the development.  The Trans were Dean’s allies, had taken the pair in when they could have left them in the cold, and Castiel owed them a favor.  He would not let the Garrison worm their way into this house to destroy it from the inside.  “Now why are you here?  Who were you sent to kill?”  

“No one!”  Samandriel’s panic rose quickly breaking through the Garrison taught cold wall. “I’m not here on a mission!” His voice pitched upward and cracked on the last word as he tried to twist away from Castiel only to have the bigger man grab him by the arms and shove him against the heavy door.  

“Stop lying to me!”  

“I’m not lying!  No one here is my target!”  He really needed to get the hell out of here before he ended up with a knife in his chest.  “I’m not here for anyone in the house!”  

“What’s your mission?”  Castiel grabbed two handfuls of Samandriel’s shirt.    “Who are you reporting to?”  If he had to beat the answers out of the younger agent, he would even if it caused a scene.  

“Anna,” Samandriel closed his eyes ready for the killing blow.  

“How often do you check in?”  

“Twice a day through text message.”  

“Times?”  

“It varies,” Samandriel cracked his left eye open trying to understand why he was still alive at this point, “but there’s always a morning and a night check in.”  

“How much and what kind of information does she want?”  

“Who goes in and out of the compound.  The vantage spots and weak points.”  

“Why would she need that?”  He asked his expression both terrifying and eerily calm.  If the Garrison wanted to attack and steal the prophet, it made sense to have a mole on the inside.  However, they wouldn’t send one of the younger agents.  They would have sent an experienced, older member like himself.  “What’s the Garrison’s plans for Kevin?”

Samandriel’s eyes went wider as his bottom lip trembled in fear.  “Anna didn’t tell me.  Just that I need to keep up on who comes and goes.”  

“What’s your cover?”  

“Cello tutor.”  He shrugged.  

“Does he know what you are, really?”  

“No.”  

“Good,” Castiel balled his hand into his fist before he slammed it into Samandriel’s nose.  “Leave right now.  Don’t come back.”  

“No,” Samandriel growled glaring at Castiel as he held his bleeding nose.  “I’m not leaving.”  

“Don’t be a hero.”  

“I’m not leaving Kevin.”  

“I am telling you to leave,” Castiel warned, eyes darkened with malice.  “You get away from that boy and never see him again.  You’re not going to harm a hair on his head, understand?”  

“I wouldn’t hurt him,” Samandriel admitted quietly the flow of blood from his nose being to thicken and slow.  “I’m not leaving him behind.”  

The words fell into place for Castiel then and he nodded.   “He was your way in and nothing more, wasn’t he?”  

Samandriel nodded slowly.   “I was supposed to help him with cello just to get inside the compound.  After I gained their trust, I-” he stumbled over the words, lips quivering.  

“Report Ms. Tran’s business meetings?”  

“Kevin isn’t the priority,” Samandriel admitted.  “He was only supposed to help get me in the compound.”  

“And you grew to care for him,” Castiel knew it was true because Samandriel’s body language gave it all away.   The small half smile when Castiel mentioned Kevin’s name, the way Samandriel stood with shoulders square and back ramrod straight, the slight narrowing of the eyes when Castiel told him to leave without Kevin, Erik sometimes did that when he thought Castiel wasn’t looking.  He realized that history would always repeat itself with different players.   “And the Garrison doesn’t know how close you are to the family now.  Give me your phone.”  

“I’m pretty sure it’s under the bed.”  

“Not that one.”  

Samandriel reached into his back pocket and handed over the small device. He watched as Castiel searched through the call logs and the text messages.  

“You’ve been stalling them.”     

There was a great sense of pride in the words because the young agent did just enough to throw off his superiors without raising some suspicions.  “Believability, I’m impressed.”  He narrowed his eyes as he read the last few messages.  “You didn’t tell them about Dean being here?  Why?”

“Kevin looks up to him,” Samandriel explained rocking back and forth on his feet.  “I know about the Levi’s attempt when Kevin was young and how Dean saved him.  I couldn’t put the rest of the Garrison on his trail.  Plus I wasn’t ordered.”  

“Change of plan.  You and Kevin go off on some long weekend adventure.”  Castiel broke Samandriel’s phone in half with a piercing crack.  

“Why?”  

“Because I told you too.”  

The reason worked for Samandriel.  “We’ll leave in a few hours once Kevin talks to his mom.“

“Make sure you’re on the road in three hours at the latest.”  Castiel instructed before he finally released the younger man.  

“Be careful, Castiel.”  

Just as the two wrapped up their conversation, Dean walked into the room.  He noticed Alfie’s bloody nose and the strange looks between the two.  “Do I want to know?”  

“No,” Castiel answered.  “Are we ready?”  

“Yeah, the car is packed and we have nice amount of cash.” 

  
“Let’s go.” 


	10. Hello, Cruel World

Dean got to drive the little, green Hyundai Accent they borrowed from the Trans while Castiel rested in the passenger seat. The assassin wasn’t close to recovered but they needed to be out of the Trans’ compound before the Campbells arrived. Dean stopped a war but he wasn’t about to deal with his extended family right now. He glanced over at his dozing passenger before he reached down and turned on the radio. Long car rides in silence were not Dean’s thing. He needed some kind of noise, a passenger talking, classic rock on the radio, hands free phone calls home, to keep himself from going mad.

He flipped through the stations trying to find something that wouldn’t put him to sleep. Just how many opera and classical stations would a population have without all of them being pod people? Once he went through the dial, and found nothing to fit his taste he turned it off with a huff. How could anyone survive without Lynyrd Skynyrd, CCR, Led Zeppelin, and Metallica? At least making calls would be easier now thanks to a couple of cheap burner phones the Trans provided. He could call his parents, call Sam, without the fear of tipping off his trackers.

“How fast are you going?” Castiel grumbled rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I’m doing the speed limit. How’s the side?” Dean asked .

“Better,” Castiel admitted his voice hoarse with sleep. “Where are we?”

“Stuck to the plan,” Dean offered, “went south until I hit the state line, then went west. We’re in Indiana, by the way.”

“What city, Dean?” Castiel he rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t realized he needed that much sleep apparently and that left him disoriented and groggy. Plus he realized that Dean had driven much further than he would liked.

“We passed Albion about an hour ago,” Dean huffed out the answer before he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like how Castiel sounded.

“Good,” Castiel opened the glove box hesitantly because he didn’t want hardcore gay porn to fall into his lap again. Instead he found several very important items: a screwdriver, flashlight, scissors, duct tape, tire gauge, a road map, a marker to write with, and a one of those fat, little notebooks.

“Well, at least you Hunter types are prepared,” he mused, “and no porn this time.”

Dean chanced a quick glare over. “Ha ha, very funny.” He sighed adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “There’s nothing good on the radio. It’s all opera and classic. I don’t see how anyone can listen to that and not go to sleep. To keep me awake, you need to talk to me.”

“About what?” A deer in the highlights looked less frightened than Castiel did at that point. He had no idea what to say in a situation like this. Hell, the Garrison didn’t train him for a situation like this!

“Anything, I don’t care.”

Castiel sat silently in the passenger seat for a moment trying to think of something to say. He never thought he would be having a long conversation while in a car with a former target. What did two men talk about while on a long trip anyway and with his rusty people skills, blah he was an assassin. He got in and out before anyone knew he was there.

“I don’t know what to say,” Castiel finally admitted because he just kept drawing a blank. “My people skills are rusty.”

Dean chuckled behind closed lips with that. “Tell me about one of your assignments.”

“Which one?”

“The one before me.”

“You don’t want to know about that one,” Castiel grumbled sinking low in his seat.

“Did you kill someone?”

“Yes,” he answered focusing on the road ahead.

“What’s it like? Doing what you do?”

“Calm, steady,” Castiel stared out the window leaning his head against the cool glass. “I know what I have to do. It’s simple. I follow orders, I serve the Garrison.”

“Sounds like a cult to me,” Dean tried to make the statement sound casually and nonjudgmental but he was judging. “Has anyone ever left?”

Castiel thought about that for a long moment. There were rumors of course, but nothing truly concrete, of those that left. The whispered name of a man called Gabriel who disappeared years ago in the High North of Iceland. No one knew if it was true, that Gabriel left the Garrison or if he had been killed during some secretive mission.

“I don’t really know,” Castiel answered still deep in thought, “I heard rumors but nothing more than that. I haven’t seen anyone leave alive.”

Dean slowly turned his head with a shocked, horrified expression on his face. Dean understood loyalty to a cause, to a family but even the Hunter had their rules. If someone wanted out, they could leave after they cut ties all ties to crime and went legit. Kevin and Sam would live their lives away from the criminal aspects while the families respected and protected them if need be. “So, you can’t leave?”

“No one has tried to leave, Dean,” Castiel answered in the brainwashed, completely subordinate ‘why would anyone want to leave’ way that seemed perfect for a horror movie with creepy children.

Dean turned his attention back to the road because he didn’t want to cause an accident. He couldn’t understand why Castiel didn’t see the problems with his organization. “Can you go back to them after this?”

“I doubt it. The Garrison doesn’t like failure,” Castiel leaned his head against the glass. He really didn’t want to think about what would happen when this was over. He knew he would be on the run but he wasn’t about to tell Dean that. He didn’t want the faux sympathy. He lived on the streets before the Garrison and he could do it again. He hope he could at least get back to his apartment, grab supplies and a few mementos.

“What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he repeated calmly. “For the foreseeable future, my focus is on keeping us alive and out of harm’s way.”

Dean knew he could offer Castiel a spot on the family’s security team, but would the man accept it? His offer could wait a while at least until they returned home. He would ask  
Cass then about joining his syndicate. The family always needed good security and with Castiel’s history, well John wouldn’t say no.

“How did you even get involved with your group? Do you have to be born into it?”

“No,” Castiel answered before he shifted a bit in his seat. His wound throbbed dully making its presence known since he had been sitting too long in one position.

“Side acting up?”

Castiel leaned the seat back just a bit taking some of the pressure off the wound. He massaged his side with the heel of his palm trying to work out the muscle cramps before they tightened up too much. “Yes, a bit. Probably should have slept in the back instead.” He twisted in his seat trying to work out the cramping muscles.

“Do I need to pull over?”

“Take the next exit,” Castiel said as they passed a highway billboard for a RV park/camping ground. “I have an idea that might just keep my people off our tails for quite some time.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue saying he wanted to know the plan. Castiel always wanted to stay on the road, that had been the plan so why now did he want to diverge from it now? He turned his head but when he saw the assassin grimace, he did what Castiel suggested but not without raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips.  
Dean wasn’t exactly sure what was going on right now and he glanced over at Castiel as they drove to their destination. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in the assassin’s head right now. “Are you sure this is wise? You have been harping about staying on the road, staying ahead of the Garrison and the Demons. Dude, this looks like a national park! This isn’t good.”

“Trust me on this one,” Castiel explained simply, studying the landscape. “The Garrison might have a reach but there some places that just can’t completely cover. And didn’t you say you needed something to keep you awake? This would be it.”

“Dude, I trust you but this seems really dumb.”

Castiel squinted his eyes, crinkled his nose, and sneered with that ‘if you say one more word about this, you will regret it’ expression. “I know what I’m doing.”  
Dean threw up his hands with a scoff but quickly put them back on the wheel. “We’ll do it your way,” he gritted his teeth and drove until they entered the park. “So now what?”

“Follow the lane while I look for something,” he answered without moving his gaze from the window.

Dean’s curiosity screamed at him, telling him to get some solid answers about Cass’ plan, but he drove anyway. He was just about to turn around when Castiel smiled at the sight of a large banner tied between two trees at the edge of large open area.

“Park here.”

“No fucking way!” Dean exclaimed when he saw the bright green banner. “That’s a class reunion! There is no way in hell we can get in there.”

“One of us has to fit in there,” Castiel grinned as he looked over Dean. “You would be the appropriate age for this, and it gives me a chance to walk around unnoticed.”  
Dean sighed and muttered something about not having a name under his breath. He had a very bad feeling about all of this and grumbled as he parked the car. “If you get me arrested….”

“We will be fine,” Castiel answered as they got out and straightened their clothes. He had to admit Dean looked pretty nice in his dark jeans, a light blue henley, and a plaid over shirt. “Act like we’re a couple and follow my lead.”

Dean let out a ‘the hell’ as they walked toward the event. They strode up to a friendly looking, very attractive couple that sat at a long table covered by a red plastic tablecloth.

Both men smiled happily as Castiel pushed Dean up to the table.

“You’re the one that wanted me to come, Tommy” Castiel explained as he quickly and carefully glanced down at the nametags lined up on the table. “If you changed your mind in the car, we could have gone somewhere else.”

“Tommy Hanniger? I thought you moved to Colorado,” one of the men, James according to his nametag, asked.

“I did,” Dean stumbled over his words a bit before he glanced over at Cass. There was a brief sense of panic before his hunter instincts kicked in. “This is Jimmy. We are visiting his family and I thought maybe I should show him a bit of my past.”

“Stop bothering him,” the man next to him with a Scottish accent and ‘Gavin’ written on his nametag, handed over a tag with ‘Thomas Hanniger’ written on it. He quickly scribbled the name Jimmy Hanniger on another tag and handed that one to Castiel. “Enjoy your time.”

Dean made a show of putting on ‘his’ nametag and watched Castiel stick his to his shirt. “Thank you so much. Talk to you later.”

They made their way over to the picnic area staying close to one another until a soccer ball rolled in their direction. Dean stopped, bent down and picked up the ball when a brunette woman ran up with an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m so sorry! I told him to watch where he was kicking.” She paused for a moment, then covered her mouth with her hand. She squealed happily as her eyes widened. “Oh my God! Tommy Hanniger! I haven’t seen you since we graduation. Heard you moved to Colorado. I thought you weren’t coming!”

Dean’s eyes dropped to her name tag ‘Lisa Braeden-Sampson’ and he returned her smile. “It’s good to see you Lisa. You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” Lisa looked at Castiel then back to Dean. “Who is this? I don’t remember him.”

“This is Jimmy, he’s my…” Dean paused and tried to think of the correct term for this. He didn’t know what stance these people took and he didn’t want to draw a lot of attention.

“We’re together,” Castiel offered with a grin.

“Good for you,” Lisa’s smile widened before she pulled Dean into a loose hug. “How long have you been together?”

“It feels like we just met,” Dean answered trying his damnest to keep nervous fidgeting under control. He stepped closer to Cass and out of Lisa’s embrace a moment later. “But it’s been what? Four years now?”

“Five actually.” Castiel shrugged as he watched Dean interact so perfectly with this woman. He played his role quite well.

“How did you two met?” Lisa asked before she guided the pair over to one of the picnic tables covered with food.

“Would you believe it was a bit of whirlwind. I was working and then Jimmy here just appeared out of nowhere. He tried to make a move but I was faster. It got his attention and then we got to talking. “After that, it was one event after another until things calmed down. We got together after that.”

Castiel watched the hunter with a great sense of pride. He was awed at how Dean managed to explain their entire background without lying to this woman. Plus Castiel liked that it sounded like a perfectly average history.

“So Jimmy, what did you think of Tom here?” Lisa handed each man a plate. “What made you want to date him?”

Castiel hadn’t expected the question but he managed. “He can handle a weapon, knows how to play a killer name of pool, and he looks very good doing it.” He observed the pair for a moment and realized Lisa looked horrified. Her dark eyes were wide and her lips slightly paired. “Honestly, it was his eyes. They are full of love, fairness, and this fierce sense of justice.” That answer seemed perfect as Lisa’s entire face lit up and her body seemed to want to float among the clouds.

“That sounds like something out of movie,” Lisa’s excitement bubbled up in her voice. She piled two fried chicken legs, a scoop of mashed potatoes, and another of mac and cheese onto her plate. “What happened after that initial meeting? I remember Tommy here being a very big player in high school.”

“I made him sleep on the couch,” Dean answered with a huff. “I didn’t want a one night stand. Figured the couch would put him in his place.”

“You didn’t want a one night stand?” Lisa sounded completely scandalized but her bright, teasing smile and gentle laugh made it friendly. “You have really grown up Tommy. Matt hated the couch.”

“I still hate the couch,” a deep, masculine voice interjected as an attractive, tall man walked up and sat down next to Lisa. “At least the new one is comfortable. A rock was better than our old one.”

Lisa grinned before she leaned over and kissed Matt’s cheek. “Tommy, this is my husband, Matthew Sampson. Matt, this is Thomas Hanniger and his partner Jimmy.”

“Nice to meet you,” he offered his hand and a friendly smile which both men briefly shook. “Were you the ones that Ben kicked the ball to?”

“That was them,” Lisa answered before a about ten year old boy came up and wrapped his arms around Lisa’s shoulders. “And this is my son Ben.”

“Mom, can I have some cookies?”

“One cookie. You haven’t had your lunch yet.” Ben let out a happy ‘yes’ before he ran over to the dessert table.

“Are you two in the co-ed soccer game later?” Lisa asked before she bit into her food.

“I don’t think-” Castiel started only to have Dean cut him off. “Sure. I love to play.”

“You’re on my team!” Lisa happily chirped. “This is going to be so much fun!”

The game started after lunch with Dean and Cass luckily on the same team. ‘Tommy’ started the game with ‘Jimmy’ on the bench. Castiel watched Dean like a hawk, saw his intense focus on the sport without sacrificing the fun of the game. He cheered when Dean’s team scored and laughed along with the rest of the team. Cass watched Dean run down the field and that’s when it happened. Just as Dean kicked the ball into the goal, and celebrated with a goofy victory dance when Castiel’s realized he had more than a simple physical attraction to Dean.

Dean might have reminded him of Erik but Dean wasn’t Erik. Dean was unafraid of pretty much anything, sure of himself and of his life, willing to fight, and did not have a problem arguing. Erik tended to hide, be very submissive as he was trained to be a sex slave without thoughts of his own. Dean had the personality Castiel craved in a mate, and the look of the one person that ever warmed his heart.

The game ended a little less than an hour later with their team winning 3-1. Cass got to play for a few minutes before the players walked off the field and Dean gave the assassin a sweaty hug. They snuck off before the teams photos were taken to plan their next move.

“How is your side?” Dean asked as they found a quiet spot away from the food, people, and kids under a huge shade tree.

“It’s much better now. Being able to walk around and not cramped in that car really helped.” He settled next to Dean. “We need to discuss our next move.”

“We can’t be the first to leave but we don’t want to get caught in the traffic,” Dean discussed their plans in a very low voice to make sure no one would overhear them. “I’m guessing you want to ditch the car?”

“There’s no cameras around,” Castiel answered, “so there’s no way to track us right now. We should be good for a while. This was nice. My job makes it hard to do things like that. I had a good time.” He kept the revelation about loving Dean to himself for now. No use in telling his former target about the attraction he felt.

“Let’s get on the road,” Dean suggested when he saw several groups of people walking toward the parking lot.

“Head south when you get to the interstate,” Castiel suggested once they were in the car.

Dean was behind the wheel again once they were on the road again. He liked their brief detour and the fact they had full stomachs for a while. Being around other people without having to worry about someone trying to kill him was a nice reprieve but now they were back on the road. Dean merged onto the interstate before the sunset.

“We’ve got half a tank,” Dean explained with a quick glance to the gauge. The park was hours behind them, the waning moon high over the tree line now, but Dean knew he would always remember that time fondly. It was on Dean’s list of ‘Best Days Ever’. “Be on the lookout for a gas station.”

They drove a few more miles before Castiel spotted a highway service sign. “Three miles to the next stop,” he pointed to the square, blue sign with a white gas pump on it. “We should be on the lookout for any kind of tail,” he said as he shifted in his seat again. He was stiff from being cooped up in the car even though he thought he had loosened the aching muscles enough but apparently not.

“You do realize we’re on a back road in the middle of nowhere?” Dean questioned as he slowed the car to make the turn into the station. “Unless they know these roads so well they don’t have to use headlights, we are the only car on this stretch.”

Castiel shot Dean a ‘you’re an idiot and we need to be careful’ glare before the car slowed to a stop in front of one of the pumps. He grabbed Dean’s arm, surveyed the area quickly, then nodded. “Stay in the car. I’ll get the gas.”

“No,” Dean answered, his green eyes wide with pissed off disbelief. “I am not staying in the damn car. I need to pee.” He got out of the car with that before Castiel could say anything in return.

The assassin got out the car with that but kept one eye on Dean. Something deep in his bones told him to stay alert, to keep a lookout even though Dean seemed sure they were safe.

Dean stepped into the small store with an annoying, electronic chime announcing his presence. The lights were a bit too bright, as if trying to make the store seem more welcoming and warm. He made his way to the back of the store, the red bathroom sign telling him where he needed to go. Once he finished his bathroom business, he rummaged through the aisles looking for something to eat.

The Trans gave them a car, cash, and a few other supplies but they didn’t have a lot of food. He bent down to look at the chips on the bottom shelf when he heard the telltale, ominous click of a bullet being chambered. He glanced up at the mirror in the corner and saw a tall man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans pointing a gun in his direction.

“Shit!” Dean cursed as he stood up slowly. He wasn’t sure if this was just some robbery about to go bad or if someone had caught up to them. “Look, I don’t know what you want.”

“Shut up!” The man shouted as he leveled his weapon at Dean’s chest. Blue light radiated from his eyes.“I know who you are. I’m going to be the one that kills you, Dean.”

Oh this is just fucking great! Dean thought before the man fired his gun. He ducked down, dodging the bullet by a hair’s breath. Glass flew out in all directions a heartbeat later when the case behind them shattered.

“You killed a freezer!” Dean taunted. He was very happy this asshole couldn’t shoot.

The guy growled at his missed shot, then moved forward ready to fire again but Dean was ready this time. Years of John’s training and his own instincts kicked in and he lunged toward the man, tackling him at the waist and sending them both off their feet. Another bullet went into the ceiling when the guy landed on his back on the floor. The gun skittered loose and spun around no longer in the hands of a killer. Dean held his own, landing on top of the assassin then repeated punching him in the face. He had the upper hand until the man got his hands up then slammed Dean’s head into a heavy beer cooler.

Ice chunks, a few full cans, and the lid hit Dean in the back of his head and the assassin didn’t let up. He wrapped his hands around Dean’s neck. Dean gasped for breath as the killer squeezed close his airway. The assassin flipped then so Dean’s back was on the ground and he had leverage. He kept choking Dean with a satisfied smirk. “I’m going to kill you.” The assassin growled as the edges of Dean’s vision went fuzzy then black.

Dean tried to claw at the man’s fingers, hoping to pry them loose but his lungs burned. He felt lightheaded and his heart pounded so fast. He wanted to breath but he couldn’t get any air. He knew he didn’t want to die like this. His eyelids felt heavy and everything started to blur.

“Move and you die!” Castiel’s voice boomed from the front of the store with a gun pointed right at the new assassin’s head.

The assassin whirled around, hands slipping free of Dean’s neck when a shot rang out. A quarter size red spot sprang from the man’s shirt as he crumbled to the floor. His enhancements flickered a bit before one last bright burst and then it was gone.

“I said, move and you die.” Castiel told the corpse as he lowered the weapon and moved towards Dean.

Dean was completely silent, just staring up at the man in the trench coat. His heart pounded in his chest but this time it wasn’t from oxygen deprivation. The realization hit him like a freight train, roaring in his ears and vibrated his entire body. He seen men killed for him, because of him, men died defending him and his family. He killed his own fair share for his family and friends but this was different. Everything changed in that moment and he knew he had just fallen hard for Castiel. Any man that could shoot like that, kill with such ease, yet still protect and save lives, Dean was gone. If Castiel wanted him, Dean was his.

Dean stood up slowly trying to get his bearings without giving away his revelation. He touched his throat checking for the beginnings of bruises just to buy him some time.

“Dean!” Castiel was at his side and caught Dean before the hunter heir stumbled.

“I’m okay,” he managed, gently pressing a hand to his sore throat. He wasn’t sure if the crackling was from the near strangling or the other development. He wanted to touch Castiel then, throw his arms around the other man and drink in the warmth of another body.

“No you’re not,” Castiel shook his head easing one hand under Dean’s chin to look for signs of serious injury. When he was sure, there wouldn’t be anything more than a bruise, he added. “We can’t stay here. We need to go.”

“Grab some food first,” Dean coughed hoping it would make his throat feel better. It didn’t, in fact it made it worse. “At least we don’t have to pay for any of this.” He joked hoping it would lighten the mood of almost getting killed.

“I’m driving until we find a place to rest,” Castiel answered.

“We should grab a couple of those gas cans,” Dean suggested when his eyes fell on the red plastic containers. “Fill them up while we’re here so we don’t need to stop for a while.”

“Good idea,” Castiel complimented before he gathered up a few cans.

They made their way back to the car. Dean sat in the passenger seat and watched while Castiel filled the cans. With the fuel stored in the back seat underneath the weapons bag, Castiel started the car and peeled away from the station.

“What about the clerk?” Dean asked trying to remember if he even saw another person in the store.

“Most likely, Gadreel killed them.”

“Gadreel?”

“Your attacker and a former ally of mine,” Castiel explained calmly as he drove. “He was dedicated to the cause, to the Garrison. He was trusted with one of the most important missions.”

“How did they catch up to us?”

“Most likely they didn’t. One of our attack plans is to blanket a wide area with as many agents as possible. Hotels, police stations, airports, bus depots, gas stations, any place where a person would need to go for supplies. The Garrison is very thorough.”

“So it was just dumb luck on his part and bad timing on mine?”

“Pretty much.”

Dean leaned his head back frustrated at this turn of events. “Maybe we should have stayed with the Trans and dealt with my family. Do you think we’ll run into anymore of them?”

Castiel thought over that for a few minutes. He had no idea how many of the Garrison would be in the area or how far the area stretched. He wasn’t about to tell Dean about Samandriel embedded with the Trans right now. He should have searched Gadreel for his phone. He might have been able to use it for a time being, figure out placements and missions but he risked the Garrison tracking them.

“I’ll find a freeway and drive all night. In the morning, everywhere we are, we stop.”

“Are you sure you can drive all night with your side?” Dean didn’t want to appear overly concerned about the assassin especially now after his revelation. How was he going to keep that information from the other man in such close quarters?

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” Castiel answered. “Try and get some rest.”

 


	11. Slumber Party

Castiel drove several hours on the freeway before the sun broke over the horizon.  At least two hundred miles away from the gas station, Castiel took the next exit and found himself in one of the tourist trap towns that sprung up with hotels, fast food restaurants, and the World’s Largest something or other.  He ignored the chain motels, and continued down the road.   He found a small bed and breakfast tucked off  the main road just far enough beyond the outskirts of the developed town.  It would be the perfect place to take a break even though the original plan had been to stay on the road.  He thought about doing just that but after Gadreel’s attack, it would be smarter to go against his training.  He parked the car in the gravel lot on the right of the small blue and white building.  

  
Dean rubbed the palm of his hand against his mouth wiping up the thin line of drool.  “Where are we?”  He squinted against the light as he twisted in his seat and grabbed one of the supply bags.  “You drove the entire time?”  

  
“Yes,” Castiel answered with a sly grin before he grabbed the other bag.  “We should take the fuel out so it doesn’t explode.”  

Dean looked around for a few seconds then shrugged.  “We could just leave them under the awning for now.  This place doesn’t seem to be a high crime area.  Should be fine.”  

“How’s the neck?”  

“Bruised but better.  Side?”  

“Stiff, sore but I’ll live.  Stay here.  I want to check the place out before we check in.”  

Dean scoffed, didn’t listen at all, and followed Castiel as he made his sweep.  He was about to make some quip about how they looked like thieves trying to break in when the front porch door opened revealing a woman with bright red hair, and green eyes, wearing a Princess Leila sleep shirt and plaid pajama pants.  

“I thought I heard a car pull up,” she offered a sassy smile as she surveyed to the pair.  “Lost your way?”  

“Looking for an off the beaten path place to stay,” Dean answered while he set the gas cans close to the house.  

“Come inside,” the woman said with the universal ‘come over here’ gesture, “you didn’t miss breakfast.”  

“Thank you,” Dean gratefully accepted her invitation for the pair.  

“Dorothy,” the woman shouted as she padded down the entryway.  “We have guests!”    She moved through the modest sitting room with ease.  

“Charlie, it’s the off season!  We aren’t renting!”  Another feminine voice came from the top of stairs.  “Tell them to go away!”    

“Just start breakfast!”  Charlie shouted back with a somewhat bereft look on her face.  “Sorry about that.”   Charlie turned back to the men and smiled.  “She’s a bit grumpy in the morning without her coffee.  I hope you like bacon, eggs, and biscuits!”  

“That would be awesome!”  Dean smiled.  “Thank you.”  

A woman in a red and black plaid robe, fluffy, bright lemon yellow, duck feet slippers, and sleep messy, brown hair shuffled down the stairs at that point looking very grumpy and still sleepy.

“Coffee, you owe me so much coffee,”  Dorothy grumbled as she passed through the sitting area and into the kitchen.  

“We have several rooms available.  Would you like one or two?”  

“One,” Castiel answered.  

“No problem,” Charlie moved behind the reception desk and typed on the keyboard.   “Since you’re the only people here, you have a choice.  Anything you don’t want?”  

“Wallpaper that looks like it will eat us,” Dean chimed in while Castiel ran through a mental list of pros and cons.  

“We have never had a guest eaten by our wallpaper,” Charlie giggled while her fingers flew over the keyboard.  “Private or shared bath?”  

“Private,” Castiel answered this time before Dean could make some kind of silly comment.  “A good vantage point for the road as well.”  

The keys clacked a few more seconds before the computer dinged and a receipt printed.  “You’re in the Biblo Room.  Second floor, last room on the left.”   She slid the plastic key card across the desk.  “Did you need help with your luggage?”  

“We got it,” Dean picked up the key before Castiel moved behind him.  “Thanks for the offer.”  

“No problem, breakfast should be in about twenty minutes.”  

“Tell them thirty!”  Dorothy shouted from the kitchen.  “Unless they want to cook it themselves!”  

“Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes!”  Charlie adjusted the time with one of those ‘ground hurry up and swallow me now’ smiles.  She hurried into the kitchen and started the ‘we have guests so be good’ whispered but heated discussions.  

“You get the bags out of the car, I’ll secure the room,” Castiel instructed as he slipped the card from under Dean’s hand.  

“Don’t hog the bed!”  Dean called after Castiel disappeared up the stairs too late but at least he got it out.  He trotted down the door and back to the car kicking himself for leaving the back door wide open.  He wasn’t too surprised to find nothing missing but still, he knew better than to leave the car unlocked especially with all their money and supplies on the seats.  He grabbed the guns, the clothes, and the cash before he slammed the door.   He carried their stuff into the room and when he opened the door, he found Castiel passed out in the middle of the bed.    

“Idiot,” Dean sat the bags down beside the door then walked over to the bed.  He bent down, untied Castiel’s shoes then slipped them off before he carefully lifted them so the assassin wasn’t half on half off.  He took a few minutes to just study the assassin, how sleep eased the lines around his eyes and the tension he carried in his shoulders.  He closed the curtains and decided to let the man sleep for a while.   No use in waking him up now just to have him fight sleep later.  Dean would save some breakfast for him and carry it up later.  

“So what brought you all the way out here?”  Dorothy asked more awake now with a cup of coffee and a buttered biscuit in her belly.  “Where’s the other one?”  She turned and looked at Charlie.  “There were two of them, right?”  

“Yes, Dot,” Charlie teased running her hand over Dorothy’s messy hair.  “We have two guests.”  

“He’s passed out in the room.  We drove all night.”  

“Where are you headed?”  

“Don’t really have a final destination in mind,” Dean admitted before he shoved a piece of crispy, crunchy bacon in his mouth.  

“Not all those who wander are lost,” Charlie quoted with a smile.  “So is this some kind of honeymoon?”  

“Charlie!”  Dorothy snapped shooting a ‘forgive her, she doesn’t know any better’ look to Dean.  

“What?”  She fringed innocent flirty batting her eyelashes.  “I can’t ask if he’s married?”  

“Is he wearing a ring?”  Dorothy waved her fingers in the general direction of Dean’s hand.  “No.”

“They could still be on a honeymoon.”  

“We aren’t on a honeymoon.  We’re more the partners in crime type,” Castiel answered from the kitchen doorway.  He changed out of his trench coat and other clothes into what appeared to be very comfortable, jersey pajama pants and soft cotton black tee.  

“So you’re not together?”  Charlie looked back and forth between the men scrutinizing their body language.  “Bummer.  You two make a cute couple.”  

“Charlie!”  

“Well it’s the truth.  Blue eyes is dreamy and greeny has the ‘that boy is a bottom’ vibe.”  

“Oh dear God!”  Dorothy looked ready to crawl under the breakfast table after she strangled Charlie.  “Please shut up!”  She turned to the men.  “I’m so sorry!  We don’t get a lot of visitors during the off season and she goes a little stir crazy!”  

“I am not going stir crazy!”  Charlie wasn’t about to let Dorothy dominate the conversation or apologize for her.  “I happen to think they would make a very well adjusted couple.  Look at them and tell me you don’t think they…”  

“They aren’t dating Charlie,” Dorothy pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Don’t pressure them.  Just because you think they would make a good couple doesn’t mean you should….”  

“I’m not pressuring them,” Charlie responded before Dean grabbed two biscuits and several strips of bacon then passed the plate to Cass.  

“Ladies, we’re going up to our room,” he explained before he stood up and tugged Castiel out the kitchen.  

“See?”  Dorothy accused as the men fled the kitchen.  “You ran them off.”   

“I did not run them off.” Dean was at the bottom of the stairs with Castiel a step behind him when Charlie retorted.  

“Think we should leave?”  He asked as they walked up the stairs.  “That might turn into a lover’s quarrel.  Do you want to be in the middle of it?”  

“We should stay,” Castiel answered when they were safely behind the locked door of their room.  Castiel found a comfortable spot by the one window and kept watch on the surroundings while Dean sat on the floor by the bed eating the rest of his breakfast.  “They seem to be fairly safe people.  I’m sure it’s nothing more than being around someone a bit too much.”  

“Plus leaving might start a war between them.”  Dean looked up from his food.  “Thanks for saving my hide back at the gas station.”  He hoped his voice sounded more calm and relaxed, hiding his true feelings.  “Not many people would do that for me.”  

“That’s not true,” Castiel turned his head toward Dean.  “You had plenty of hunters willing to kill me back at your place.”  

“That’s different,” Dean leaned back against the bed frame, food forgotten for the moment, “you’re not Family.  You don’t have to kill for me.  You don’t have to protect me.  It’s not your job.”  

Castiel opened his mouth to reply only to close it then return his attention to the window.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say right now, how to explain to Dean that this wasn’t a job, and he hadn’t been since the first crappy motel.  How much Dean remind Castiel of a painful piece of his past that he forced from his mind but Dean drew it to the forefront.  

“I kill for a living,” Castiel finally broke the stubborn silence without looking at Dean.  “I know what I need to do.  Protecting another life…that goes against a lifetime of training.  Protecting a life, making sure no harm comes, it’s not my job but I’m doing it for you.”  

  
“Why?”

  
“Because you remind me of someone I cared about a very long time ago.”  

“Erik?”  

“Erik,” Castiel nodded.  

“Old partner?”  

“Lover,” Castiel let out a long, slow breath.   

“What happened to him?”  

“He died.”  

Dean waited several minutes Castiel to add something more to the story but nothing else came.  He sat on the floor staring up at this man that he barely knew but was so very important to him.   

“Talk to me.”  He wanted to know everything, he wanted Castiel to tell him everything, from the beginning, about this mysterious Erik, about how he came to be a part of the Garrison, how he trained to become the person he was.  He wanted to hear Castiel’s story, all the bloody, gory details from beginning until right now.  

“Not right now,” Castiel answered quietly.  “One day, but not today.”

 “What about your enhancements?  The Garrison did that to you?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered with a slight shrug.  “My eyes were first, followed by the ears.”  He smirked with a slight nod.  “Not much to tell.  Corneas and retinas enhanced with bionic implants.  Based the design on the best eyes in the world. I can see well beyond the range of the average human, night and day with complete depth perception.    The optical nerve has been genetically modified to transmit the images without any kind of degradation to an enhanced occipital lobe.  Hearing’s modified in a similar way.   Bionics are worth nothing if the brain can’t handle them.”  

“How old?”  

“I got enhanced after a failure.  Most of the time, the Garrison starts enhancing after the first successful mission, normally around fifteen.  I was almost thirty.”    
Dean knew that the older a person was, the harder they were to enhance.  He almost asked then thought better of it.  

“How did you become a part of your organization?”  Dean knew it was like to keep your close, not give away too much, too soon.   Everyone had that one subject they just couldn’t talk about until it was time and this Erik person was that for Castiel.  Better to change the subject and sweep out the growing tension in the air before it got too thick.  

Castiel chuckled knowing exactly what Dean attempted to do with the question.  That part of his past was something he could talk about easily.  While life in the Garrison was harsh at times, it wasn’t the case.  “I don’t what happened to my mother.   She left when I was baby or she died.  My father was killed when I was six and I would put in an orphanage.  Ran away from there with a few older boys.  I was eight years old, living on the streets of Moscow with a group of older street children.   We had no parents, no place to go.  We stole for a living, food, clothing, supplies, and we pick pocketed for money.”

“Sounds a bit like Oliver Twist.”  

“Minus Fagin,” Castiel insisted before he continued.  “I saw this man in a long, black coat with a fancy silver watch.  Figured if I got his wallet, I would have money for a few months.  Little did I know, my mark would be a savior.  I saw him get out of this car and followed him a few blocks.   I wormed my way through the crowd like I always did when I found my mark.  He stopped in front of this little bakery to talk to a red haired woman, and buy something.  That’s when I made my move.  I tried to lift his wallet from his coat pocket but I got caught.  Grabbed my wrist, dragged me kicking, screaming, trying to bite him,  back to his home.  I thought I was going back to the orphanage and I couldn’t do that but he did something very strange.  Took me in for a few hours, offered me a hot meal, a place to stay, and told me to take a bath.  I heard the stories about young kids being taken and used for sex slaves by the upper society folks and panicked.  I thought I would be me so I screamed and tried to run only he caught me before I got to the door.  I acted like a feral animal trapped and he didn’t even blink.  He carried me upstairs and dropped me quite rudely into a large bathtub.  The water hit me in the face before I had a chance to scream again.  That’s when he told me that he preferred women’s developed bodies and lovemaking skills to a childish, untrained boy like me. I calmed down then and took a hot bath for the first time in years.  There were fresh, washed clothes waiting for me when I got out the bath.  I still can remember the feel of those clothes against my skin.  Soft, clean smelling, warm, without holes and tears.  I figured I died and this was Heaven at least until I came down for the meal.’

‘The man issued me a challenge.  If I could take his wallet without him noticing, he would become my benefactor and this would be my permanent home.  I tried for a few hours but every time, he caught me.”

“So what happened?”  Dean’s eyes were wide trying to figure out how an eight year old kid could survive all that and grow into the smiling man in front of him.  

“I managed to talk him into giving it to me,” Castiel admitted with a sideways grin.  “I asked him to show me some kind of variation in the smooth leather.  Made it sound like there was a defect.  It worked and when I had the wallet in my hands, he told me I had a home.  I was a curious little kid, so I looked  through it before I handed it back.  Saw this brand and asked him about it.  It was the symbol of the organization, the Garrison.  He didn’t tell me that on that day.  I found out what the symbol meant later when he starting my training.  I went to school during the day and after class, my mentor trained me.  I could shoot a gun with incredible skill and precision by the time I was thirteen.  At fourteen, he took me to the Garrison House.”  

“Do you remember the man’s name?”  

“Michael.  He was one of the four Garrison’s heads and I impressed him.”  

“Is he still alive?”  

“No, he and his brother were killed during an internal conflict.”  Castiel shrugged.  “He taught me a lot and gave a life.  I doubt I would still be alive if it wasn’t for him.”    
Dean wasn’t sure what to say at that point.  There was a lot of information for such a short time but Dean knew there was more.  He maybe got a very brief overview of Castiel’s life probably the equivalent of a blurb on the back of a book.  He wanted to know more and he knew he was in trouble.  Between the whole ‘he killed for me, because of me and I’m in love with him’ revelation and now this, Dean wasn’t sure he could continue to hide the truth.  He didn’t want to be this guy with the over the moon, stars in his eyes, lovey, dovey type.  In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to have an easily exploited weakness.  Oh God, he wanted this man but how could he balance that want with the needs of his syndicate?  Falling in love was hard.  

“You’re interested,” Castiel plainly stated, “in me.”  

“What?”  

“For the past several days, your biometrics show an increase in oxytocin and dopamine.”  

“How in the hell?”  

Castiel pointed to his eyes.   “Told you I can see better than the typical human.”  He smirked before he slid off the chair then crawled over to Dean.  

“That is really freaky, Cass.”  

“I suppose it is but they do help.”  

“Too bad they’re not a mood ring.  I could figure out what you’re thinking.”  

Castiel tilted his head to the side.  “I have been very clear on my thoughts.  We need to stay ahead of the Garrison and the demons.”  

“I’m not talking about that.  You called me a Erik a few times.  I get he’s a dead lover but that doesn’t help me out here.”  He ranted trying not to sound bitter.  He just didn’t want Castiel to think of him as a substitute.  “I don’t know what you think of me.”    
Instead of answering with words, Castiel slide out of the chair and onto the floor beside Dean.  He took Dean’s chin in his hands, leaned forward, and kissed the hunter.  “I think very highly of you, Dean,” he answered when he finally broke their first kiss.   He smiled before he leaned in again.  He nuzzled Dean’s cheek with his lips tasting the hunter’s skin.   Dean smelled so good, a perfectly aged musk that drove Castiel’s insane.  It was dizzying.  “You’re strong, stubborn, loyal to a fault, and unafraid.”  

“You mean it?”  Dean breathed sliding into the spell of Castiel’s lips.  His lids felt heavy over his eyes, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that Castiel thought him some kind of replacement.  

“Of course,” Castiel smirked before he pulled off his shirt.  “I want you.”  

Dean released a light breath and turned his head so their lips met.   Passion, pleasure, and need welled up inside him and soon he was on his back, naked, and panting under the assassin.  Dean’s eyes fluttered closed with a lustful moan encouraging the other man to continue.  It worked and Castiel brushed his lips over Dean’s cheek.  Castiel’s lips lingered there exploring the sculpted planes with tentative, soft kisses and Dean arm came out and cradled the assassin’s upper body.  

Head spinning with want and desire, Castiel reached out and caressed Dean’s hips.  The hunter was so sexy, so beautiful, full of power and strength and Castiel wanted to rub and explore.  He kissed Dean’s chest teasing his way along Dean’s sternum. His lips and tongue moved slowly tasting Dean’s just woke up skin until he dipped his tongue into the hunter’s belly button.  “You taste so good,” he moaned before his lips found Dean’s cock.  

Castiel mouthed Dean’s length until the hunter was hard then hooked his thumbs over Dean’s hips.  Castiel bobbed his mouth up and down slicking up Dean’s length with every pass.  He pulled off Dean then kissed the tip of that amazing cock.  

“You’re so wonderful, Dean,” Castiel blew a soft, cold breath over the head watching as Dean shivered.  

“Cass, please,” Dean moaned as he laid a gentle hand on the back of Castiel’s head.  “Please, Cass.”  

“Give me a minute,” Castiel smirked before he stood up and walked over to his bag.  He unzipped the main pocket then pulled out a gold foil packet and a small tube.  He tossed the foil packet to Dean and kept the tube for himself.  “I need to prep.  Would you like to watch?”  

“Yes,” Dean propped himself up on his elbows as Castiel knelt on the floor.  

Castiel clicked up the tube and poured a generous dollop of the liquid onto his fingers.  He very gently eased his knees apart.  He traced his fingers over his balls teasing Dean for a moment before he rubbed his fingers down his crack.  He traced along his crack before he slipped his finger between the cheeks.  He ran his finger along himself for a moment then pressed his finger inside.  He circled it around for a few seconds then added a second.  He moaned and put on a great show for Dean pumping his hips and moving his fingers.  When he was ready, the assassin rolled up Dean’s body lining himself up with the head of Dean’s cock.  
Dean grunted as Castiel lowered himself down on the rigid length.  Dean didn’t move his hips letting the man take as much time as he needed.  They both groaned when Dean was root deep.  

Castiel set the rhythm pulling himself up then slamming his hips down at a brutal pace.  Castiel’s hands slid over Dean’s chest roaming over the time traveler’s body.  The sounds that came from his mouth were primal, animalistic, and highly erotic.  His eyes rolled back in his head when Dean wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked his penis.  A few minutes later, Castiel climaxed with a loud cry before he slumped forward his body very relaxed and seemingly boneless.  

“Keep moving inside me,” he whispered to Dean as he covered Dean with his body.  “Just keep moving inside me until you’re done.”  

Dean nodded slowly rolling his hips making Castiel shudder and shiver with every stroke until he came.  He kissed Castiel’s temple before he eased himself out.  “Ready to get out of bed?”

“In a minute,” Castiel answered with a lazy smile in a low rumble.  “I like this a lot.”  

Dean liked this too.  The feel of this man draped over him, keeping him warm.  This wasn’t like his usual flings.  He didn’t want this to be a random, quick hookup.  He let out a little groan when he slipped free of the assassin.  

“That was very nice,” Castiel rolled off Dean and laid in bed.  He smiled happily.  

“When this is over,” Dean began hesitantly, “my organization – I could offer you a place.  You know how to kill, you can protect.  The Syndicate could use someone like that you.  You could train our next generation of guards.”  

Castiel pondered Dean’s offer in complete silence long enough for Dean to think he overstepped.  He was about to retract his offer when the assassin finally spoke up.  

 “I can’t accept that, Dean.  My place is with the Garrison.”  

“What if they don’t take you back?  You said they might not.  They’re hunting you now.  What makes you think you still have a place there?”

“If I’m not welcome, I find my way.”  

“I’m offering you a place when this is over.”  Dean was hurt but buried it under a mountain of anger.  How could Castiel turn down the certainty he offered?   “The Garrison might kill you.”  

“It’s a chance I’ll have to take.  I’m a part of the Garrison and as long as that is true, I can’t pledge myself to another organization.”  He stopped and listened for a few seconds. 

“The ladies have finished their argument.  We can return downstairs.”  

At that moment, Dean wished the Garrison would find them just so he could beat out most of his frustrations.  He scoffed before he got up, threw on his clothes, and went downstairs.  He needed to get away from the assassin before he said something he would regret.  

“What are you doing?”  Dean found Charlie and Dorothy sitting around the coffee table in the living room with a board game in front of them.  

“About to play King of Tokyo with all the expansion packs!”  Charlie looked up with a wide grin on her face.  “Want to join?”  

“I don’t really know how to play.”  

“You play a monster that takes over the city then tries to beat up the other monsters.  Charlie can teach you the rest,” Dorothy spread out the character cards.  “Pick your character first.”  

“I want to be the Panda!”  Dean grabbed the card.  

Charlie explained the rules and how the dice rolls scored, while she picked the Godzilla knock off and Dorothy took the King Kong lookalike.  Dorothy won the first round with her Zombie Princess Mega Dragon to twenty points first.  Charlie won the second round by killing off the other monsters, and Dean won the third.  Just before the fourth round began, Dorothy turned on the television to catch the afternoon news.  

Dean rushed upstairs and grabbed one of the burner phones after he heard about a rash of drive by shootings and the fire bombing of John’s business  in his hometown.  In his gut, he knew this was the Levis trying to take Winchester turf but before he could act, he had to know if his family had been harmed.  For several tense seconds, he listened to the line ring until someone picked up.  

“Hello?”  

“Mom!”  

“Don’t come home, Dean.  We know the Levis are trying to set a trap for you.  Don’t come home.  Stay with the Trans.”  

“We had to leave the Trans last night.  The Campbells were coming and I didn’t want to expose Cass to any more of the Family.  Where’s Dad?   Is anyone hurt?”  

“No major injuries.  John’s going to get Sam.  He’s leaving once he has enough men for a full protection detail.”  

“I’m closer.  I can leave right now and be at Stanford in the morning.”  

“That’s not a good idea, Dean.  Both of you can’t be in harm’s way.  Just let John get Sam.”  

“I’m not going to be in harm’s way.”  

“Dean, let your father get your brother.  Stay where you are and do not leave until we have the Levi situation under control.”  

“Mom.”  

“Don’t mom me.  Stay put and don’t act like you have to save the world.  Keep your head down.”  

Dean sighed because he hated the idea of staying here and letting his dad handle this.   He was the Heir, the new Head of the Syndicate, and instead of rolling up in some bed and breakfast, he should be racing across the country to save his brother.  

“Dean, whatever you are thinking, you’re important to the Family.  We can’t risk you right now.  Let your father do this.  No one will think any less of you.”  

“Okay.  I’ll stay here at least for a few days.  When Dad picks up Sam and Jess, he can swing by here and get us too.”  

“Your father will be there soon and then you’ll be home where you belong.”  

Dean admitted being home with his family sounded really nice.  He could oversee his family’s safety and he strike back at his enemies.  

“I’ll see you soon.”   

He hung up with that and went downstairs again to find Charlie and Dorothy snuggled up on the couch drinking from steaming mugs, whispering and giggling.  

“Everything handled?”  Charlie asked picking her head up from her conversation the moment Dean stepped into the living room.  

“Yeah,” he nodded with his trademark sly, feigning innocence smirk.   “Did you see where?”  

“He’s around back,” Dorothy answered.  

“Thank you,” Dean quickly made his exit and found Castiel about five minutes later sitting quietly under a large tree seemingly in deep meditation.  He stood around, unsure if he should sit next to the assassin or just wait until the man made some move.  

“Are we staying or leaving?”  Castiel asked.  

“Staying for now,” Dean answered before he sat down next to Cass.  “My dad’s on the way to get my brother.  My mom’s staying at home and we are staying here at least until my dad comes and we all leave with him.”  

That made Castiel open his eyes and stare at Dean.  “Are you sure that’s wise?  We left the Trans because your family  would be there, and we are staying until your father arrives  That doesn’t make sense.”  

“I don’t like it but yeah, we’re waiting,” Dean leaned his head against the tree.  “No one can figure out what the Levis have planned or why they are attacking.   And right now, the Levis don’t know where I’m at so it makes more sense to lay low.”  

“How will your family find you here?  Did you give them an address?”  

“No,” Dean thumped his head against the tree.  He completely forgot about that.  He hadn’t told Mary where he was, not even the state he was in.  

“We can leave now if you want.  Pick up your brother and then bring him to one of your allies.”  

“I like how you think.  Let’s get packed and go.”  

Castiel drove while Dean sat in the passenger seat handling the family business.  He barely paid attention to the heated argument between Dean and his father just kept his eyes on the road.  They were on the heavily traveled interstate with its higher speed limits and less stops hoping to reach Sam before the Levis got to him.   No one knew how much time the Levis had on them but Castiel already calculated it would take about two straight days of driving to reach Dean’s brother.     

“Sam?”  Dean shouted as he got out of the car after he pulled up to the two story white row house.  “Sam?” He ran around to the back of the house not bothering to kill the engine or wait for Castiel.  Dean needed to find his brother, to see if the Levis got to him before Dean.  “Sam?”  

“Dean?”  A petite blonde woman with bouncy curls called out over the sound of a door opening.  “What are you doing here?”  

“Where’s Sam?  Are you Jessica Moore?”  

“In class until four,” she answered with her arms crossed over her chest.  “Yes, I am.  Want to tell me why you’re here?  John was supposed to be here.”  

“The Levis hit a couple of our businesses on the east coast.  We’re closing ranks and pulling everyone back.  We don’t need the family scattered right now.”  

“Why didn’t Mary or John tell me you were coming?  We have a couple safe houses here.  I could have convinced Sam to leave.”   She was about to say something else when she pulled a gun from behind her back and pointed it over Dean’s shoulder.  “We got company!”  

Dean turned and found Castiel standing at the corner of the house.  “He’s with me.”  

“What?”  

“Traveling companion.”  

“You sure?”  She kept her gun trained on Castiel while she talked to Dean.   “Looks like a killer to me.”  

“He’s been in the car with me since this whole thing started.  He had plenty of chances and he saved a few times.  Jess, he’s not a killer.  Put it down, pack some bags, we get Sam, and we go.”  

“I want to call Mary first,” Jess slowly lowered the gun then slid it back where it came from, “but you’re welcome inside.”  

Dean motioned for Castiel to come closer then the pair followed Jessica into their home.  Castiel stayed close to the door while Dean and Jessica walked through the kitchen to the living room.   

Jessica sat down on her gray, plush, extremely long and wide, microfiber couch while Dean took the matching love seat.  She placed her gun on the sturdy looking, white oak, coffee table before she finally spoke.  

“I know you.  You would protect Sam with your life, and I’m sure on some occasions you did,” she kept her tone in that neutral but cold way as if about to give Dean life altering way.  “I don’t know him.  I don’t trust him.  I’m not dumb.  I’m not naïve.  He’s not your traveling companion.  He carries himself with ease.  He’s not scared of any this.  He knows what’s going on, and it doesn’t make him nervous.  If he’s any kind of threat to Sam, I’ll put a bullet in his head.”  

Dean thought he might be able to play this off as Jessica being too good at her job, suspicious of anyone outside of the syndicate, and that a few well placed, well time compliments would make it easier for her to buy his lie.  He opened his mouth but when she crossed her arms, leaned back against the couch, then cocked one eyebrow, he knew that was a very bad idea.  Coming completely clean was out of the question because he didn’t need Cass shot right now.   

Jess narrowed her eyes, the bridge of her nose wrinkling up as if daring Dean to try and throw her off center.  

“He’s not a danger to Sam or anyone else,” he finally said with a cautious glance to the stoic man in the kitchen.  Cass stood quietly at the door, watching for any possible threats but Dean could tell the man heard every word of the conversation.  “He got up in this by helping me.”  

“I’m going to call Mary and John,” Jess stood up without another word and went into another room away from the men.  She returned a few minutes later.  “The Levis are moving west.  They just hit one of the Tran’s properties last night.”  

“Anyone hurt?”  

“We don’t know yet but I need to get Sam.  I’ll be back.”  

“We’ll get Sam; you get packed.  I know a place we can stay.”  

Jessica looked unsure and uncomfortable with the idea.  “He’s in the Law Building on Nathan Abbott.  If you leave now, you should catch him before he gets out of class.”  

“Cass, we got to go!”  Dean shouted on his way out the door.  

Dean wasn’t sure how long it took to get from Sam’s place to the law building but it felt like an eternity.  He didn’t know where the Levis would hit next and he hated that Sam was out in the open.  When he found the building, he pulled up on the curb just as the several students came out the building.  Dean opened the driver door and got out not caring about his horrible parking job or the nasty looks he got from the pedestrians.    

“Sam!”  Dean shouted over the crowd searching for the tall frame and familiar face.  “Sammy!”  

“What the hell, Dean?”  Sam came up from the right, book bag thrown over one shoulder with that typical ‘stop embarrassing me’ look on his face.  “Why are you here and acting like a crazy person?”

“Get in the god damn car right now!”  He ordered, pointing at the little green sedan.  “We need to go!”  

“Where’s Jess?  Who is that?”  He asked.

“Get in the car!”  Dean didn’t need this – his baby brother shouldn’t be stubborn right now.  

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!  You can’t just show up and think I’ll do what you want.”  

“Sammy, get in the damn car!  I don’t have the time to explain.”  

  
“Dean!”  

  
Dean leaned in dangerously close and particularly growled in Sam’s ear.  “I am not explaining this right now.  Get your ass in the car.”  

  
Sam sighed but decided it wasn’t worth the argument in front of the student body.   He dropped into the backseat with a might slam of the car door.  Once they were on the road with Dean in the driver’s seat, Sam decided to ask about the black duffle bags shoved on the floorboards behind the seats.    
“So are you going to war?”    
“The Levis put on a hit on me and when that didn’t work, they attacked.  Mom and Dad are okay; they’re at the Kansas safe house.  The Trans were hit last night, we don’t know the damage.”  Dean explained coldly as he weaved in and out of traffic.  “You and Jess are going to little cabin on the lake until this blows over.”    
“Like hell we are,” Sam snapped from the backseat sending Dean his patented bitch face #17 with the help of the rear view mirror.  “This is my family, my people.  I can help.”    
“You can help by laying low and keeping your hands clean,” Dean explained whipping around a white moving van.  “This is Hunter Business.”    
“I’m not a Hunter?  Dean this is something….”  
“You are a Man of Letters.  You need to protect those secrets.  You are about to finish Law School and start your own practice.  Getting involved in this puts all that in danger.  You get dirty and all that work is for nothing.  It’s a waste.  You little brother, you just lay low with Jess in the cabin.  It’ll be over in a few days.”    
“Who are you taking into this fight?”    
“This guy,” Dean pointed to the passenger seat where Castiel stayed silent during the brothers’ conversation.    
“Who is this?”    
“Alexis Drazen,” Dean lied.  “He’s from the Russian Syndicate.”    
“How did he end up on this side of the ocean?  Hunters stay in their parts of the world.”    
“I’m not a Hunter,” Castiel answered quickly.  
“What are you then?”    
“Doesn’t matter, he’s with me.”  Dean wasn’t about to get into this right now.  He needed to protect Sam, keep him out of the Levi’s reach and out of Hunter Business.    
“Dean!”    
“Until Dick’s dead, we are not a team!  This is a dictatorship!”  That ended the discussion easily enough.  
A heavy, strained silence hung over the car for the rest of the ride until they pulled into Sam’s driveway.  Jessica opened the door the second she heard the car and met them in the middle of the lawn.    
“There was another Levi attack just outside of town.  We need to go now.”     
The news put the men on high alert.  Sam rushed into the house, grabbed the fire box from under the bed, then followed Jessica into the garage.  Her white little coupe sat ready to go with several bags stacked in the backseat before Sam tossed the box on top.   They were in her car and on the road following Dean less than three minutes later.      
“What do you see, Cass?”  Dean asked once they hit the open highway.  “Are we being followed?”    
“We’re good so far,” he answered with his eyes on the side mirror.  “I haven’t seen the same car behind us.”    
“You think your people finally gave up on tracking you?”    
“My people don’t like attention and they don’t want to be in the crossfire” Castiel admitted.  “If the Levis decided to turn this into open war, the Garrison pulled up stakes.  We aren’t meant for that.”    
“What is the purpose?”    
“Mostly contract killing and thievery,” Castiel answered.  “Occasionally kidnapping or political uprising.  Where are we going?”    
“Trinity Lake.  There’s a cabin big enough for two people to hide out for a few days.  We are parking Sam and Jess there.”    
“Do you think they will listen to you?  Sam seemed very intent on helping his family no matter the cost.”    
“If he doesn’t, I’ll figure something out.  I might have to tie him down but he’ll stay put one way or another.”    
They drove in a comfortable silence with Castiel’s trained eyes on the surrounding cars.  The Garrison might be off their trail and the Demons handled but the Levis were a growing threat. If Dean didn’t stop them, the Levis would devour everything.  They arrived at their destination under the cover of darkness, a simple, one story, dark wood cabin, tucked along the tree line.    
Sam and Jess stayed in their car with the headlights on until Dean managed to find the hidden spare key.  Once the front door was open and the inside lights turned on, Jessica pulled her car alongside the cabin so it wouldn’t be seen by the main road.  The pair gathered their bags, and slowly made their way inside wary for the trip.  Sam took their bags into the bedroom and dropped them there before he returned to the kitchen where everyone gathered.    
“We need a plan.”    
“I need a plan,” Dean corrected with a stern glare in Sam’s direction, “you two are staying right here out of the line of fire.  Mom and Dad would kill me if something happened to you.”    
“Mom and Dad would kill you if something happened to you,” Sam parried with trademark bitch face #12, “whatever you are thinking, whatever you are planning, don’t do it.  You don’t have to do this on your own.  There is an entire syndicate that would fight for you.”   Someone needed to talk some sense into Dean so he didn’t run off on some suicidally insane mission.    
“Sam, this is my fight.  The Levis want me and these attacks are just their way of showing that they won’t stop until I’m out the way.”  Dean let out a long, slow breath.  “I didn’t want to run in the first place.   I wanted to stay and fight.   I didn’t and this happened.”    
“Dean, the Levi’s attacks aren’t your fault.  They’ve been trying to take over for as long as I can remember.”    
“Sam, let’s not talk about this right now,” Jessica offered the distraction with an easy smile and a gentle hand on Sam’s upper arm.  “It’s been long day and we all need some food then sleep.  We can talk this over in the morning.”    
Sam grumbled something unintelligible before he nodded.  He could table the discussion until the morning at least after everyone’s nerves settled.  “Okay.”    
With that settled for now, the four went about the business of searching the cabinets for food.  A can of beans, a bag of rice, a couple of cans of various vegetables, a jar of peanut butter, and some packs of pasta landed on the table.  Sam made the ‘we are safe’ call to his parents that including a lot of reassurance.  While Dean made a quick meal of beans and rice, Castiel set up a security perimeter outside the cabin with Jessica’s help.    
“That guy is not a normal person.  He figured out how to rig up trip wires with tree roots.” Jessica announced as she came into the kitchen.  “Sam said he was from your Russian Syndicate?”    
“Yes.”    
“Look, you said he wasn’t a threat to Sam and I’m going to believe you because you’re going to be my  boss next month but that guy isn’t a traveling companion.  He’s not some guy that got caught up in this and he’s not  Letters or a Russian hunter.  I know you’re not going to tell me now but when this is over, I want to know.”    
 “I’ll tell you everything,” Castiel stepped through the door with that, “after the danger passes.  We should be focused on the Levi threat right now.”    
Dean didn’t ask why Castiel said that considering he thought the assassin would be returning to the Garrison or on the run from the Garrison after this fiasco.  He liked the idea of Castiel sticking around for a while.  
“Mom and dad want us to stay put for the next couple of days,” Sam informed the group when he joined them in the kitchen.  “We got an update from the Trans.  Seems like the Levis tried to take their compound but didn’t get much.  Linda’s fine and Kevin wasn’t there in the first place.  He’s staying with the Fitzgeralds in Wisconsin.”    
“Garth is looking after Kevin?”  Dean sounded very doubtful of that situation.  “What could go wrong there?”  
Sam wanted to argue but decided it wasn’t worth the frustration.  He knew Dean’s opinion about the Fitzgeralds – they were too rainbows, sunshine, and happy thoughts and didn’t belong in the Hunter World and that it wasn’t going to change anytime soon.  Instead of wasting his breath, he walked up behind Jess and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.    
“Sorry to get you involved in this,” he kissed her cheek.    
Before Jess could say anything, Dean announced the food was ready and the four sat down to eat.    
After the meal then the clean up, Sam and Jess retreated to the bedroom while Dean and Cass stayed in the living room.    
“Do you plan to sneak out during the night?”  Castiel asked when Dean checked to see if there was light coming from under the door for the fifth time.  “They would hear the car engine.”    
“I need to get back home,” Dean whispered looking for any sign of Sam overhearing and coming to stop Dean.  “I can’t wait for the Levis to find me and they can’t find me here.”    
“What’s your plan?”    
“I take this fight to Dick’s front door,” Dean smirked.  “And I take him down before he goes after anyone else I care about.”    
“I’m going with you.”    
“This isn’t your fight.”    
Castiel crossed his arms over his chest as a cold mask slid of cruelty and violence slid over his face.  “I’m not staying here when you need back up.  I’m going with you.”    
Dean shook his head with a rueful smile.  “We’ll wait until they fall asleep then we can go.”    
“That might be a while,” Castiel explained.  “They are talking about us.”    
“What?”    
Castiel held up his finger in the universe ‘one moment’ gesture a studious expression on his face.  “Apparently they are staying up until we are asleep.  Your brother thinks you will sneak out on him.”    
Dean rubbed his eyes because he didn’t want to involve Sam or Jess in his plans.  He needed them to stay in the cabin away from the fighting but if they wouldn’t go to sleep, he couldn’t sneak out.  “We need a plan, Cass.”    
“I could drug them.”  
“No.  I don’t drug people.”    
“We can’t just wait them out,” Castiel looked over his shoulder.    
“We don’t have to wait them out;  we have to fake them out.”  Dean explained with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.  “We grab some showers, make like we are heading to bed, and stay quiet until they are asleep.”    
True to his word, once the light went out in the master bedroom, Dean and Cass snuck out of the cabin.  Dean took the spark plugs out of Jessica’s car so they couldn’t follow in the morning before the Hunter and the Assassin got in Accent and drove.    
“We need to make a stop first.  I have to put something up,” Dean explained once they were out on the highway.    
The stop turned out weather beaten, two story house with peeling paint and a bunch of abandoned, rusted cars in front of it.  
“Dean, this is a horrible idea,” Castiel cautioned his instincts on high alert looking for any signs of an ambush.  There were too many hiding places, too many spots to place a bomb and there were no signs of any type of security.  “We don’t know if the Levis have infiltrated here.  We should leave.”    
“No, we shouldn’t,” Dean replied calmly as he guided the car down the narrow, dirt drive, “we aren’t walking into some kind of trap.  I need to pick something up here.”    
“What could possibly be of any import here?”  Castiel asked.    
“You’ll see,” Dean smirked while he drove around the house to the garage at the back of the lot.   He turned off the ignition then pointed to the bags in the back.  “Grab those.  We are going to need them.”    
Castiel grabbed the bags then followed Dean out the car.    
Dean walked around to the side of the building and stopped at the rolling metal door with a key pad on the side.  He typed in a code before he stepped back and watched the door lift.  When there was enough room, he ducked under and stepped into what appeared to be a private garage.  Dean smiled at the sight of his ’67 black Impala, kept in immaculate condition, parked in the middle of the garage.  He reached for an antique, red, metal gas can tucked into the corner on the narrow, metal that ran along the middle of the garage’s walls.  He unscrew the cap, shook the can, then closed his hand over the silver key that dropped out of it.    
“We are taking this car, Cass,” Dean remarked as he walked and unlocked it, opened the door, before he took the bags and packed them in back.  He slid into the driver’s seat, ran his hand lovingly over the dash, and smiled.  “We’re going to war.  I’m not leaving you behind.”    
Cass just shrugged unsure of the history behind the car and why Dean needed to take this one.     
“My dad brought this car before he married my mom,” Dean explained with just a hint of nostalgia in his voice.  “This is the car we took on hunts, on camping trips, on late night junk food runs.  A lot of times, it was just guys but every once in a while, my mom would come.  I loved those trips.  My mom taught me how to swim and fish.  There was an accident when I was about eight.  This truck came out of nowhere and side swiped us.  We were okay, a few bruises and a couple of scratches but the car was so messed up.  The only people that didn’t want to buy another car was my mom and dad.  I watched him rebuild this car with my mom at his side. They fought over every detail like keeping the Legos stuck in the vent.  Dad thought they should go; mom said they stayed.  He gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.  That’s the day he opened his auto business and I went on my first solo hunt.”    
“So this car is a home to you?”    
“It is.”    
“Get in,” Dean unlocked the passenger door letting Castiel in the car and when they were settled, Dean turned the key and put the car in gear before he pulled out of the garage.  He waited until the door rolled closed before he pulled away from the building.  Dean hunted monsters for a living and he was about to kill the biggest one of his life.  Dick Roman would be dead if it was the last thing Dean did.  
The pitch black of the bedroom was suddenly flooded with light as the shrill cry of an alarm system broke apart Dick and Lilith, who had, up until that point, been very busy making love in their king-sized bed.   Gunshots filled the air along with screams and shouted ordered.  A long boom shook the entire building, rattling the windows, and sent items chattering off the walls.    
The pair pulled apart, Dick going for his gun and shouting for his guards while Lilith found her silk robe.  Lilith moved to the window while Dick focused on the door.  Who could possibly ambush them at their compound and where were the guards?    
“They killed the guards!”  Lilith shouted when her eyes fell on the slumped, bloodily bodies of the ground crew.  Black smoke rose from the bodies forming a large cloud around the house.    
Dick rushed to the window to check.  “Shit!”  He cursed just before the bedroom door smashed open.    
Dick fired one wild shot before his eyes fell upon a rather smug and equally amused Dean Winchester.    
“Come to surrender?”  Dick narrowed his eyes in his shrewd business way that made people fall at his feet.     
“Not a chance,” Dean retorted with a growing smirk.  He pulled his gun, shot Dick twice in the head and let the body crumple to the floor.  His eyes slowly clouded over as a pool of dark red slowly spread out from under his body.    
Lilith screamed in furious rage and lunged for Dean.  She almost got her hands around the Winchester’s throat before another gun shot rang out and thick black goo poured from her chest.   Black smoke spilled from her mouth and she fell to the floor.  She died next to her husband the red blood mixing with the black goo to create a brown mess.    
Dean looked to the bodies of the Levi clan and let out a relieved sigh.  His family, his associates, the Hunters, no longer had to deal with Dick Roman and his games.  He turned to the doorway, ready to make his escape when he found Edgar blocking his route and gun pointed at Dean’s head.    
“I get to kill you,” the man snarled.    
The hatred in Edgar’s brown eyes made Dean twitch knowing he couldn’t get a shot off before the Levi second in command pulled the trigger. Time froze for a moment, Dean believed this would be the end when Edgar’s head exploded left sending blood and brains splattering along the walls.  The body pinched left and it was over.  Dick, Lilith, Edgar were gone, if any Levis remained after this, they would be in hiding.  The war between the Hunters and Leviathans was over.    
Dean walked out the bedroom, ready to thank the assassin for the well time shot when the words died in his throat.   A red headed woman stabbed Castiel through the stomach near the right kidney with a long, silver knife.  Dean watched in horror as the assassin shot her under the chin, then kicked her down the stairs.    
Castiel leaned heavily against the wall holding his gut.    
“Cass!”  Dean shouted, rushing over just in time to catch the assassin before he pitched forward and hit the floor.  “Come on, get up!”  He shouted at the man before he slipped Castiel’s arm under his shoulders.  This wasn’t like the last injury.  Blood poured out of the wound and Cass was far too pale.  “We need to get out of here!”  He grunted as he helped the assassin stand.    
They stumbled through the house stopping when their escape route blocked by men and weapons.  Dean grabbed a forgotten in the chaos grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it behind the guards before the group ducked down behind the corner.  The explosion gave them the distraction they needed.  The remaining Levis scattered, fires erupted, and parts of the building collapsed. Heavy black smoke filled the air, making it hard to breathe and even harder to see.    
Dean turned and rushed through the burning building, blood beginning to drip from Castiel’s mouth, before they finally reached an opened door pulled off its hinges.  A few jostles here and there as the crowd crushed against one another to get out the door, then suddenly there was nothing.  They had gotten out of the building.  Dean grunted and got to the Impala parked on the front lawn.    
Acting quickly, he pressed his hands against Castiel’s stomach firmly to stem off the blood flow, wincing at the pained sound he made, and hobbled them both over to the car.  
“You are not dying on me, you hear me?” He commanded as he situated him in the passenger seat.  
“Keep pressure on that wound. You stay with me! Just stay with me!” Dean rushed around the car, jumped in and gripped the steering wheel, and then floored the gas-pedal, the tires peeling against the grass then the asphalt as the car took off at rapid speed.  
Dean drove as fast as he could towards any local hospital. He didn’t know where to go, he wasn’t in friendly territory but he didn’t care.  His only concern was getting Castiel help, and even the smallest, rural hospital, deep in former enemy territory would have to do.  Hopefully they could get him stabilized and then transfer him to a Hunter or Men of Letters friendly, much bigger facility.    
Dean just had to keep him conscious until they got to the hospital.  
“Talk to me! “  He shouted at his rapidly deteriorating passenger.  He glanced over several times to him, making sure he wasn’t about to pass out completely.   “Talk me about Erik!  Tell me why you kept calling me him and who was he?”        
“Erik was my first real lover,” Castiel struggled to keep his voice steady, the pain and blood loss making it difficult to answer him.  “He was a rescue from a sex slave ring the Garrison broke up in Russia.  He was just another face among the hundreds we rescued that day.  We absorbed the ones that had potential and couldn’t go home.  The ones that we couldn’t train as killers or thieves, we found them places in the world.”  He made this pained, groaning, chuff sound as his head went back against the rest.  “Erik was so different.  He was beautiful and young, full of life and even though he lived through hell, he still believed in goodness.  He had green eyes like yours.  He was stubborn too.  Every time we tried to leave him with someone, we found his way to me.  The Garrison decided since he wasn’t going to leave me, he was mine.”    
“What?”    
“He didn’t know anything else but being a slave to powerful men.   He didn’t know his parents, if they were alive.  He couldn’t read or write, and he was fourteen when we freed him from that life but he knew that without protection, he would right back in.  He wasn’t a fighter.  Skin and bones at first, and he still tried to get my bed.  Figured he could barter his body for my protection.”    
“What did you do?”  Dean asked when Castiel didn’t speak for several seconds.  He glanced to the side and shook the man.  “Hey, what did you do to Erik?  Used him for a sex slave?”     
“No,” Castiel shook his head fighting the coldness that crept in his body.  “I didn’t need a slave; I didn’t want a slave.  I didn’t even a pet because I wasn’t around much.   He kept trying, every time I came home, he would be waiting at the door, naked.  One day, I just got tired and told him that until he could read and write, and gained enough muscle mass that his ribs couldn’t be seen, I wouldn’t touch him.”    
Even under the intense pressure of this situation, Dean managed to chuckle.  “What happened then?”   He sat up in the driver’s seat when his headlights shone on a blue highway sign with a giant H on it.  He was about a mile away from the exit and help for Cass.  “Did he run away?  Did you throw him out?    
“I didn’t leave him.  I wouldn’t throw him out.  I would never do that.  Life is too precious.  He did it,” Castiel smiled at the memories, “he tracked down one of the formers slaves he knew and asked for help.  Managed to enroll in this adult literacy class in Moscow.  He attended those classes at night and during the day, he worked on his body.  He cooked for himself, he trained, and then one day, he walks into my bedroom and curls up next to me.  He put his head on my chest and started reading out loud from the book I had.  He read slow, had to sound out most of the words but still, he could read.  I was shocked and then he smiled, this amazing, beautiful, proud smile.  I got lost in the joy that radiated from him.”    
“And he became your lover then?”  Dean reached the exit, pulled off, and followed the signs.  He knew he was losing Cass, how the assassin’s breath rasped and whimpered.  He needed to get the man to the hospital.    
“Yes,” Castiel groaned again.    
“How did he die, Cass?”   He pressed his foot down on the gas and drove at breakneck speed.    
“We came to the States when Erik was twenty.   One of his older owners tried to take him back but it didn’t happen.  He was scared and I wasn’t about to stay there.  He loved to cook so he enrolled in these once a week culinary lessons.  He was so happy to be out of Russia, away from his old life and his past as a slave.  You should have seen how happy he was.  He smiled all the time, he laughed and we were happy.   Then it all went away.  We had been together as a couple for a little under three years when the past caught up.  The man that failed in Russia, he kidnapped Erik on the way to his lesson.  They tortured him in horrific ways and when I arrived, they shot him in front of me.  I killed them and Erik died in my arms.  I failed to save him.”  Just as Cass finished his story, Dean sped into the hospital parking lot.    
“He’s the reason you got your implants?”  Dean asked as he brought the Impala to a halt in front of the emergency exit and killed the engine.  He ran towards the doors of the emergency room, shouting for help at the top of his lungs.    
Castiel looked out the car window, his vision blurry and darkening.  He saved Dean when he couldn’t save Erik.  Castiel gave a mournful, regretful smile at the thought.  Maybe  this wasn’t such a bad way to die after saving a great man from an awful fate.  He was just about to close his eyes and let the cold and dark overtake him when Dean came rushing towards him with medics and a stretcher behind him.  He focused on Dean’s face, the desperation and fear in those green eyes, and he didn’t want to leave that man.    
“Dean...” His eyelids grew heavy and it was very hard to make his mouth work.  “Dean, I want to stay with you.”  He hoped the words could be heard because the blackness washed over him.    



	12. The End

The constant, steady, even beeping of a heart monitor was the first sound to register as a pair of eyes slowly opened and blinked under the bright fluorescent lights and white ceiling of a stark, sterile hospital room. Over the beeping, another soft sound: someone breathing evenly. He tried to bring his hand to his face only to find it impossible to move. He looked down and found his wrists restrained to the bed sides. 

“You kept trying to pull out the IVs,” Dean’s sleep edged voice pulled Castiel’s vision to the right. The Hunter stretched and rubbed his eyes. “Don’t ask me how you managed that after losing four pints of blood. I think I heard one of the nurses say you cleaned out the blood bank.” 

“How long have I been here? Where are we anyway?” He rasped more than usual. 

“You’ve been here four days and Northern Illinois State Hospital.” Dean answered from the side of Castiel’s hospital bed. “Dumb question but how are you feeling?” 

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” Castiel’s entire body ached, it hurt to breathe, his limbs felt weighted with lead. 

“You got stabbed in the gut,” Dean explained sliding his hand over the assassin’s. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

“Okay,” Castiel agreed. 

“I heard what you said, about staying,” the Hunter played with the hem of his flannel over shirt. “I have a place for you. Being the head of the Syndicate means I decide who’s in my organization.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel forced his eyes open when his eyelids dropped. 

“Get some rest,” Dean patted Castiel’s shoulder with that. “I need to go Kansas for a few days, officially accept my place as Head of the Hunter Syndicate. I’ll be back before you’re released.” 

“Okay,” he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and drifted back to sleep. 

Dean smiled to himself at the sight of the assassin resting peacefully in the bed. He called in some favors and local Hunters would watch over Cass until Dean returned. Little did he realize that Castiel had escaped from more secure places. 

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Dean stood at the reception desk with Sam on his left, and John and Mary on his right three days after he left Castiel in this place. “He almost died and you’re telling me he just walked out of here?” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester but we haven’t had a patient in Room 213 since Wednesday.” The young, brunette reception repeated the information for the third time. 

“Dean, come on,” Sam tugged on Dean’s sleeve trying to get his very pissed brother away from any unsuspecting civilians. “We can find him ourselves.” 

“He left,” Dean growled while his family surrounded him while he stalked angrily down the hallways. “He fucking left!” 

“It’ll be okay, baby.” Mary wasn’t going to let her son sulk and hurt over this man. “You’re the Head of the Network. Just say the word and everyone will look.” 

“I can’t turn the Network into my personal tracking service,” Dean grumbled when they reached the hospital entrance. 

“I used it to find your father,” Mary admitted with a completely unabashed smirk, “more than once.” 

“When did you do that?” John was very surprised at the admission plus the amount of time Mary kept it a secret. 

“I’ll tell you later.” She turned her attention to Dean. “If you don’t want to use the whole network, then the Trans, Harvelles, and the Singers are viable alternatives. All you have to do is ask.” 

“I don’t want to think about it,” Dean admitted quietly as he reached the Impala. “I just want to be by myself for a while.” 

“Dean?” Sam didn’t like the idea of Dean going anyway alone. He looked over at the worried but trying to hide it faces of his parents. “You sure you don’t want me to come along?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dean didn’t have the energy to care. “Your Society of Letters thing is soon and you missed enough school during the Levis shit. Just go back home.” 

“Okay,” Sam watched Dean get into the big, black car then angrily drive off. 

“We should go after him,” Sam exclaimed as he turned to his parents for advice. “Who knows what he’ll do.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Mary replied with a sullen expression on her beautiful face. She grieved for her oldest son knowing a mother’s love wouldn’t heal that broken heart. “Let   
Dean deal with this on his own. We’ll be here when he needs us.” 

While the rest of his family got into their car, Dean drove from one end of the town to the other looking for any sign of the former assassin. He wanted to know why Castiel left the hospital, why he didn’t wait for Dean to return. The assassin was hurt badly, nearly died, and the bastard left the hospital without a word. Dean wanted to hate but first he had to find him. 

Dean looked for hours unsure if Castiel even remained in the area. The assassin could have easily stolen a vehicle, how many times had they done just that while on the run from the Levis? Cass would have a three day lead in any direction and Dean didn’t have a clue on where to start. He might never find the assassin again. Dean still looked though.   
Dean’s search took him to homeless shelters, police stations, hospitals and health clinics. Three days Dean got up at dawn and drove the streets until after midnight. He didn’t why he hadn’t taken his mother’s advice, picked up the phone, and called some of their allies. He could expand the search area with the help of the network if Castiel already made it out of Illinois. His search turned up not one trace of the assassin and Dean decided that he would spend one more day searching. If he still hadn’t found some sign, Dean would call the Network and ask for help. 

On his fourth night, a torrential rain storm kicked up just after sunset. He thumped his head against the Impala’s steering wheel when the storm cut his visibility down to nearly zero. Knowing he couldn’t continue, that he lost Cass for good, Dean parked his car at a Gas –N-Sip to wait out the weather. If he hadn’t stopped, if he tried to continue, he might have missed the huddled form in the doorway trying to stay dry. Dean couldn’t leave that poor soul out in the cold, so he got out and walked over. 

“Cass?” Eyes wide in shock, Dean stammered the name hoping it was really was the man but expecting the sight to be some trick. “Castiel?” 

The man looked up, the layers of clothing soaked through, hair plastered down against his skull and Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “Come on, Cass. You can’t stay out in the rain.” The gentleness, the concern, it surprised Dean after all the rage he felt. He just wanted to get Cass warm, fed, and safe. 

“Dean you have to leave,” the man admitted as a massive shiver racked his frame. “You can’t be here. It’s not safe.” 

“I’m not leaving you out here,” Dean answered ignoring the pounding rain and sleet. “My hotel’s close. Just come in out the rain for the night.” 

“Thank you,” he stood up slowly and followed Dean to his car. 

Once Dean had Cass in the Impala, he knew there was no way in Hell he was letting this man leave. They had been through too much for Dean to abandon Castiel. He knew the assassin could kill and he could protect. The Hunter Syndicate could use a man like him, and Dean needed a man like Castiel. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Dean grinned as he turned the ignition and backed out the space. He waited for Cass to answer and when he didn’t, he glanced over and found the man already asleep, head pressed against the glass. “Should have stayed in the hospital,” Dean grumbled at the sleeping man while he made his way down the wet streets.   
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the simple, multi storey, red brick building then parked close to the door. He turned off the ignition then gently shook Castiel awake. “Let’s get you inside.” 

Castiel nodded as he rubbed his eyes. “Where are we?” 

“It was a gentlemen’s smoking room in the fifties but now it’s a hotel for Hunters ran by some local Letters,” Dean answered. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

Castiel nodded again and sleepily followed the Hunter into the hotel. The monochromatic black, white, marble floor tile, echoed their footsteps and Castiel nearly dropped down onto the plush, leather bench in front of elevators. Castiel found himself stripped down to nothing, wrapped in fluffy, warm, dry towels, a bit later but he couldn’t remember how he got in the room. 

“You need a hospital,” Dean reasoned as a paper cup of hot coffee appeared in front of him. “Cass, you’re bleeding.”  
Castiel shook his head trying to keep himself awake long enough to warn Dean about the Garrison. 

“I can’t go back there. The Garrison tracked me down and tried to attack me. They sent two of my former trainees, Ion and Rachael. I killed them both before they could kill me.” 

Dean froze at the confession. Why in the world did Castiel tell him the Garrison pulled up stakes and abandoned him? “What?” 

“I’m still wanted, Dean,” Castiel took a few sips of the coffee the liquid slowly warming him from the inside out. “The Garrison would use you to get to me. You traveled with me. They know your face. The Garrison doesn’t believe in failure and as long as you’re alive, they will try to kill you.” 

Dean knelt in front of Cass, placed both hands on the assassin’s cheeks, then shook the man. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t clock out yet. Tell me what’s going on.” 

“If you stay the Garrison is going to kill you. You can’t be around me.” 

“Let them come,” Dean assured Cass before he eased the man back against the bed. “I’m not leaving you out in the cold. You’re staying here; you’re staying with me. Let’s get you patched up and in the morning, I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t go, Dean,” Castiel found it very hard to stay awake now that he was in a warm, dry place with someone to watch over him. He should storm of there, disappear into the night but the feeling of Dean’s hands on his injured side made him want to stay. “It’s too big a risk.”

“Let me decide that,” Dean slowly peeled back the bloody gauze sucking a sharp breath between his teeth at the sight of the wound. “I’m not leaving without you. I’m taking you home, to my home. You’ll meet Sammy, and my dad, my mom.” 

“Okay,” Castiel nodded. 

“Now that we got that settled,” Dean eased Cass to his feet and helped him walk toward the bathroom, “let’s get you warm.” 

Dean calmly pushed open the door with his foot then eased Castiel into the tub. He leaned over the edge and turned the tap to cold. He let the water run just enough to cover the bottom of the tub then twisted the knob to hot. 

“Oh that feels good,” Castiel groaned as he leaned back against the lip of the tub. “Thank you, Dean.” 

“You’re welcome,” Dean waited until the water reached Castiel’s waist before he turned off the tap. He picked up the bar of mini soap. “Just relax.”

Dean slowly bathed the assassin letting the steam and heat seep into Castiel’s body. He took great care around the healing injury. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you saved my life, more than once,” Dean answered. “This is my way of thanking you.” 

After the bath, Dean helped Castiel stand then patted him dry. “I have some clothes you can borrow. You need something to eat. Get dressed then I’ll see if kitchen’s still open.” He left the room with that. 

Castiel was strong enough to dress himself and the bath did make him feel so much better. The heat relaxed his muscles and pulled the tension from his bones. He held his side thankful it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Being here in the warmth of Dean’s room was so much better than being out on the cold streets. Castiel wanted to be at Dean’s side even though the Garrison targeted him. If he was honest, he knew he should run. He should climb out the bathroom window and go back out on the streets. But the idea of being cold, being alone, being on the run, he couldn’t do that when he would have Dean’s warmth and companionship in a few minutes. 

“I got you a cheeseburger and some fries,” Dean said as he came through the door with a brown paper bag. He walked over and handed Castiel the bag. “It’s still hot and those are some of the best I ever had.” 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel opened the bag and ate not bothering to get out of bed. He took his time, enjoying the hot meal but making sure not to eat to fast and upset his system. When he was done, he yawned and then he was under the covers. Dean picked up the trash and threw it away. When Dean moved toward the chair in the corner, Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Castiel pulled Dean on the bed. “It’s wrong for you to sleep on the floor or in a chair while I take your bed. Share it with me.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say no only to have Castiel quickly tug his wrist a bit harder. Seeing he wasn’t going to win, Dean nodded. “I need a shower first. I’ll be back.” 

“Okay,” Castiel eased his grip on Dean’s wrist and before he knew it, he was asleep. 

Dean made sure Castiel was asleep before he moved around the room, packing up what he needed. Now that he knew why Castiel ran, Dean knew what he needed to do. They weren’t going to run this time but they weren’t going to change in blind. Dean would get Cass out of the Garrison no matter the cost. 

Dean stood at the edge of the bed debating his next move after he packed and got a long, warm shower. He didn’t want to disturb the sleeping, still recovering, assassin and he wasn’t sure he should climb under the covers. 

“You’re thinking too hard,” Castiel grumbled from under the covers barely lifting his head off the pillow. “Just come to bed.”   
Dean thought about for a few more seconds then slid on top of the covers. He listened closely to Castiel’s breathing grateful the sounds because he knew Castiel lived. He waited until Castiel’s breathing evened out then turned to face the man. He slowly carded his fingertips through the short, dark locks. Yeah, he was going to keep Cass as long as he could. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Dean admitted while he ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Now that he found the assassin again, he wasn’t going to let the man out of his sight. He never wanted another person as much as he wanted Castiel. This weird little dude proved himself to be one of the best strategians and killers he ever knew. 

“That feels really nice,” Cass mumbled slowly cracking his eyes open. He didn’t want to sleep right now. “Were you serious when you said I had a place with you?” 

“Yes.” 

Castiel turned so he could face Dean. He swept his gaze over the hunter’s face, over the long lashes, full lips, the freckles that teased the cheeks and nose. He shifted closer so they were chest to chest and resting against one another. “Would I be your partner or your underling?”

“Partner,” Dean answered. 

“Good,” Castiel whispered then kissed him again letting himself linger over Dean’s soft lips. Castiel closed his eyes and savoured the hunter’s soft, eager moan. When he finally leaned back, he smiled at Dean’s lowered lids and kiss swollen lips. His heart made a proverbial flip and he knew he was gone. “I can do this. I want too.” 

“You sure, Cass? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” 

Dean looked over the assassin with eyelids heavy with want and desire. He let Castiel’s hand move freely over his chest and stomach. Strong hands roamed over Dean’s back then down his waist to his ass. His inside swirled with heated pleasure and passion and his erection stood stiffly. Every cell of his body begged to be touched, kissed, licked, sucked because they could do anything they wanted. He gave in to that desire. 

Dean gasped when Castiel’s hands found his butt and massaged the cheeks. He craved this kind of touch, hot, erotic, and sensual from experienced fingers. He moaned when one of Castiel’s fingers slipped into the crevice and pushed into the touch. “Please,” he begged. “Please, Cass.” 

The assassin kissed Dean’s lips again. “You sure?” 

“Want you in me.” 

“How long has it been for you?” Castiel took his time, slowly circling Dean’s hole with one finger, teasing the sensitive flesh. 

“Two years,” Dean admitted as a slight blush crept to his cheeks. “I should have brought some lube. I missed you.”

“We can make it work,” Castiel traced around Dean’s rim one more time before he traced his hand up the curve of Dean’s back. “I won’t be surprised if there’s some kind of magic oil hidden in this room.” 

“The Letters slash coconut oil in the bathrooms,” Dean chuckled at that tucking himself up against Castiel’s body. “It’s supposed to be used as a massage oil but it should work in this pinch.” 

“Inventive,” Castiel kissed Dean’s shoulder before he eased himself out of bed. The assassin quickly ducked into the bathroom and returned with a small jar. He slid back into bed with Dean and resumed kissing the hunter. 

Kissing led to hands roaming, fingers slicked in oil teasing sensitive parts of Dean’s parts until the hunter let out a long, low moan when Castiel’s fingers finally entered him. Castiel moved in and out, stretching those muscles. 

“In me now,” Dean moaned after a few minutes. “Please.” He spread his legs and reached them around Castiel’s hips. “Please.” 

Castiel lined himself up and slowly pushed in letting Dean adjust until he was buried in the hunter. Long, lavious, glides, in and out, slow, steady pace, Castiel’s movements brought Dean to the heights of pleasure. 

Dean grabbed handfuls of sheets, made sinful noises, and begged for more. He loved being with Cass, letting the assassin fuck him so slowly that every thrust sent a pleasurable jolt up his spine. Dean rolled his hips, met Castiel’s movements with his own. It seemed to go on for hours until finally Dean felt his lover climax inside of him before his own followed a few minutes later. They bathed in the shared afterglow for a few minutes, happily touching the other until they drifted to sleep. 

Dean woke up naked to the feeling of a warm, firm body pressed against his side, one arm thrown haphazardly over his chest, and a leg hooked around his own. 

“What time is it?” Castiel mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. When his brain caught up to his body, he jerked away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” 

“It’s okay, Cass.” 

“I should go,” he moved to get out of bed but Dean grabbed his shoulder. 

“I told you last night, we are getting out of here and going home. I’m not leaving you behind.” 

“This is a very serious situation, Dean,” Castiel warned just so Dean knew exactly what he was getting into. “I’m hunted. I killed two of my own kind. The Garrison will not go down without a fight.” 

“So what? We took down the Levis together. Get dressed, we have a long drive ahead of us.”

There was no denying the Hunter’s determination and Castiel nodded in agreement. 

An hour later, the Impala was packed and the men ready to go. Castiel felt much better, still sore, and a bit weak but much better than the last couple of days. He felt the strength returning to his body and a sharpness in his mind. He felt more like himself and that was an improvement. Dean already explained the drive would take about ten hours and if he wanted to crash in the backseat, he was more than welcome. He took the Hunter up on his offer and ten hours later, Dean shook him awake with a smile. 

“This is it.” 

“It’s a bunker? This isn’t your house.” 

“This is the safest, closest place in the world. Sammy gave me the key. It’s one of the Society of Letters’ bunkers and until my house is fixed, this is where I’m staying.”   
Once inside the bunker, Dean put Cass up in one of the spare rooms and told him to stay put while Dean cooked. They ate Dean’s burgers, then Cass went back to bed while Dean stayed up and went over the books. He was the new head of the network and he needed to stay on top of business. 

“Dean?” Castiel stumbled out of his room around two a.m. dressed in grey boxer briefs and nothing else. “Why are you still up? Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?” 

Dean gave a little half smirk before he lifted up a heavy ledger. “I’ll go to bed once this is done.” 

“What are you doing?” He moved around so he could look over Dean’s shoulder at the columns and rows of neat numbers and names. “Money laundering? Why would you need that?” 

Dean moved the chair closest to his out so Castiel could sit. “Hunters don’t have health insurance and injuries gets expensive. Every territory contains a couple of legitimate businesses that provide a realistic cover life for Hunters. No one wants to get arrested for credit card fraud or tax evasion.” 

Castiel nodded in agreement because he understood. The Garrison used similar tactics to support itself and provide a place for their rescues. “Don’t you have some kind of agreement with the FBI?”

“An off of the books department. I doubt the IRS would accept ‘working for super secret government agency’ as a reason for not filing taxes.” Dean just shrugged, looked down at the ledger, then over to Castiel. “You shouldn’t be up. You need your rest.” 

“Can’t get comfortable,” he admitted with a slight shake of his head. 

“I’ll give you a tour after I finish this,” Dean offered with an understanding smile then he glanced down at his work. “Just give me a few minutes.”

True to his word, Dean closed the ledger and pulled out his chair before he led Castiel around the bunker. He showed the assassin the common rooms like the kitchen and library before they moved deeper into the bowels. The map room, the observatory, the communications room, Dean explained the history and about the former Letters that worked there. 

“This used to be where we kept the monsters that couldn’t be contain, but we don’t use the dungeons anymore,” Dean said as they walked into the cement room with chains hanging from the ceiling. “Hunters tend to take them out before they can get here. We keep them just in case.” 

“Makes sense,” Castiel said with his eyes on the chains. 

They ended the tour in the garage where the Impala sat center stage. The Hunter made sure to check his baby for scratches and dents before the pair walked back to the sleeping quarters, turning off lights as they did. Not wanting to press, Dean left Castiel in the spare room before he returned to his own. He stripped out of his Hunter’s clothing before he ducked into the bathroom for a shower. He stayed under the warm spray until the water ran cold before he turned off the faucets and toweled himself dry. He slipped into his pajamas and thought about walking to Castiel’s room to check on the assassin again but decided against that. 

Dean slid under the covers and tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. He tossed and turned for a bit before he just flopped onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling. He scoffed because he had gotten used to sharing a bed. He missed the warmth of another person, and the comforting sounds of breathing next to him. He debated getting out of bed and when his door slowly opened. 

“Dean?” 

“Cass?” He propped himself up on his elbows with a happy grin that made it his eyes. “You need something?” 

The assassin stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Can I-?” 

Dean didn’t let him finish the question. Instead he pulled back the covers and offered Cass that side of the bed. “Come here, you.” 

Castiel couldn’t get in Dean’s bed fast enough. He placed one arm around Dean’s waist and laid his head on the other pillow with a ‘thank you, Dean’. 

Dean wrapped his arm around his bed mate’s shoulders enjoying the warmth and the scent of skin. He realized with a bit of a start that he wanted this all his life. He finally found a person that could be his partner during the day and night. He didn’t need to hide or downplay his Hunter side or his Letters lineage. He could simple be Dean Winchester, Head of the Hunter Syndicate, a members of the Society of Letters, a fighter, a lover, a partner. He smiled to himself. He had what he wanted out of life and he wasn’t about to lose it. He closed his eyes for a moment before he felt Castiel’s hand drift over his hip. 

“Sorry,” Castiel whispered before he pulled up his hand. 

Dean shook his head before he laced his fingers with the assassin’s. He chuckled before he slowly moved in and kissed Castiel. “Don’t be sorry. I like it.” He whispered when he finally pulled away. “We got the place to ourselves.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes before he nodded. “That would be very nice.” 

“Good.” Dean agreed then slid under Castiel. Before he knew it, Castiel traced his kissed down Dean’s neck and over his collarbone. He whined when Castiel pulled his lips away from his skin to take off his shirt. 

Castiel’s lips moved to Dean’s ear. “Thank you for everything, Dean.” He whispered seductively into the Hunter’s ear. He chuckled at the soft, breathy moan as Dean tugged on his neck so their lips could meet. He felt Dean spread his legs offering his body to Castiel’s pleasure. He felt Dean’s growing erection press against his own. 

Dean grinned under Castiel enjoying the press of the muscular frame above him. “Fuck me.” 

“In good time,” Castiel teased before he kissed his way down Dean’s chest. When he sucked gently on Dean’s nipples, the Hunter gasped and writhed underneath him.   
“Sensitive?” 

“Very.” Dean moaned. He bit his lip when Castiel’s mouth returned to his chest and nibbled gently. “Please, more.” 

Castiel focused on them for several minutes before his mouth moved slowly downward. He slid his tongue along Dean’s abs and slowly pushed Dean’s boxers down his legs to his ankles. He tossed the garment away leaving Dean completely nude underneath him. He took the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it just to hear the elicit should be illegal moans. 

“Cass, Cass,” Dean breathed as he moved his hips hoping it encouraged the assassin to take more of him. That mouth was so perfect around his cock, licking, sucking, teasing, bobbing slowly up and down as if savoring the taste of Dean’s length. He moaned louder, squirmed against the bed, gripped Castiel’s hair in pleasure as the man massaged his testicles. “Wait, stop.” He pleaded because he didn’t want to come just yet. He wanted to give as good as he got. He tugged Castiel’s hair gently and the assassin pulled his mouth off. He panted as Cass kissed up his chest, quicker than the earlier descent. They kissed greedily as their erections rubbed together. 

“Lube’s in the drawer,” Dean explained as he reached toward the nightstand. He watched Cass tug off his clothes and now they were both naked in Dean’s bed. He found the bottle and flipped it open before he poured a generous amount over Castiel’s fingers. 

Castiel started with one finger that quickly became two when Dean whined one wasn’t enough. He felt Dean push against the preparation sensing just how Dean craved this. He kissed Dean’s belly as he used his other hand to lube his own cock. He pulled out his fingers, then lined himself up and slid into the Hunter, making sure to pause until Dean encouraged him to continue. When he was completely buried, he kissed Dean’s neck and sucked. He wanted to mark Dean as his, for Dean to have another reminder of their play. 

“Do it, Cass.” Dean begged as he dug his heels into Castiel’s lower back and rolled his hips upward in encouragement. 

Castiel didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back slowly, leaving just the head in before he pushed forward until their hips met. He increased the speed and the intensity of his thrusts when Dean asked for more. Moans, slapping of skin against skin, those sounds filled the small room as each neared their climax. He moved as fast as he could until finally he let out a incredibly loud, completely satisfied moan when he released his load at his final thrust just before Dean did the same. 

Castiel collapsed into a boneless heap on top of Dean as they caught their breaths. He rolled off Dean and laid at the Hunter’s side. “That was perfect,” he admitted before he moved his head just enough to kiss Dean again. 

Dean grinned under Castiel’s lips as he curled up against the assassin’s side. He enjoyed this moments because he knew he had a battle to plan and war to fight. 

Little he did knew, the Garrison planned to bring the battle to him. It happened on a typical Thursday, a little over a week since they settled together in the bunker, and Dean had just parked the Impala in front of the bunker when two strangers appeared from behind the trees. Dean calmly climbed out the driver’s seat. 

“Can I help you?” 

A woman with fiery red hair, milky white skin, and wide eyes answered. “We want our brother.” 

“Don’t know who you’re talking about.” 

“Castiel.” 

Dean had a very good idea just who these strangers were but he wasn’t about to let them know his suspicions. He played it calm and cool. “Sorry lady but you’re in the wrong place.” 

“We know he’s here. His enhancements told us his location,” a middle aged, pot bellied, man dressed in a sweater jacket with graying, curly hair and a full beard answered. “Give us Castiel, Dean. He’s not worth dying over.” 

“He is,” Dean grinned. “I’m not selling him out or giving him up. Do what you gotta.” 

The red head moved in the blink of an eye, a gun appeared in her small hand pointed directly at Dean’s chest. There’s a flash behind her, the gun shot echoing through the woods. Her body fell forward the back of her head missing. 

“Get out of here!” Castiel yelled at Dean before the assassin appeared. “Run!” 

The warning came too late. Dean felt heat burn in his chest, this hot lead tearing through his muscles and bone. He covered the spot just under his ribcage with his hand trying to stop the pain only to pull it away when he felt this sticky dampness. Bright, red, fresh blood covered his hand. It hurt to breathe as he fell against the Impala. Dean looked up, vision darkening and blurring at the edges to see Castiel racing toward him. 

The middle aged man grinned happily. “Hello, Castiel,” he greeted grabbing Castiel’s arm before he could reach Dean. “It’s time to come back now.” 

“No,” Castiel growled yanking himself away from the man. “I’m not your toy anymore, Metatron.” 

“I’m your leader. You will do what I say. You can never leave the Garrison. You tried before when you turned your back on us. Your little friend died that time too. Made sure that slaver found him in the States after you fled Russia. You shouldn’t have run, Cass. I had to make an example so no one else tried to follow. He needed to die in front of you so you wouldn’t try it again but then you met this idiot.” Metatron pointed the gun at Dean’s head. “And you’re going to watch this one die too.” 

“No,” the pained word came from the ground. Dean managed to pull himself up but he’s bleeding badly and leaning heavily on the Impala. “I ain’t dying here.” 

Silver flashed in front of Castiel’s eyes then red and bright white filled his vision. He blinked and Metatron was on the ground, black knife handle sticking out from his throat. 

Castiel moved them, ignoring the two dead bodies and helping Dean into the passenger seat. 

“Put pressure on it!” He ordered before he’s in the driver’s seat. “Where’s the nearest hospital?” 

“Ten miles south. Smith County.” 

“Just hang on, Dean.” He couldn’t lose Dean now. He couldn’t lose Dean like he lost Erik. He wouldn’t watch another person die because of him. 

“Just get me there, I’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure he missed the artery. I really hate getting shot though.” Dean pushed down on his stomach trying to slow the bleeding as much as possible. “This really sucks.” 

Dean turned out to be correct. Metatron’s bullet missed the artery but didn’t clean through. The Hunter was in surgery for a couple of hours getting fragments removed. 

Dean woke up surrounded by solid white in a hospital bed, hooked to different medical monitors and in a good bit of pain. He glanced around the room and found Sam fast asleep with Jess in his lap, her head on his chest, sharing one of those brown chair monstrosities near the foot of his bed. His dad stood by the window with his head slumped against his shoulder while Mary sat next to John holding his hand. 

“You’re awake,” Castiel’s voice came from his left. 

“Where I am?” He asked groggy from the heavy sedatives he had been given. He remembered people coming for Cass, and then getting shot. Cass drove him to hospital. “How long was I out?” 

“Two days,” Castiel answered, making sure to keep his voice soft and low so he didn’t wake up everyone else. “You’re at Smith County.” 

“Two days?” Dean’s eyes widened at that. He didn’t think his injuries had been that severe. At least he was in a hospital close to his family. “I need to get out of here,” Dean stated as he gripped the side bed rails and tried to pull himself into a sitting up position. 

“Don’t do that,” Castiel placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders and eased him back onto the bed, “you lost a good bit of blood and you need to keep your leg as still as possible for another few days.” 

“I need to get out of here,” Dean repeated slowly as he looked up at the ceiling, “I don’t need to be here, Cass. I’m fine.”

“I’m pretty sure your family would murder me if I checked you out of here now,” Castiel mused before he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Your parents told me you hate being cooped up in bed but this is for the best. Just give it a few days and then you can go home.” 

“You’re coming with me right?” Dean looked up with worry and dread. He didn’t want Cass to leave him now. “I know the Garrison’s out of the way but you’ll stay with me right?” 

“I’ll stay,” Castiel bent down and gently kissed Dean’s forehead. “Should I wake up the rest of your family?” 

“That would be great. I wanna talk to them.” 

Castiel nodded then walked around gently shaking shoulders or squeezing hands until all the Winchesters and Jessica were up. He slipped out of the room to let the family talk and returned with coffee and tea for the others. He realized that Dean’s family didn’t trust him completely yet and gave them time with Dean. A few days after he woke up, Dean was out of the hospital, and back home in Lawrence much to his family’s relief and Castiel was with him. 

A month after Dean’s hospital release, he and Castiel sat in his parents’ kitchen. Mary invited the pair over for supper for a proper sit down with Dean’s new lover. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Dean nudged the restless man in the side. “You kill for a living. In the past month, you have been shot, stabbed, nearly killed, and you lived to talk about it. Meeting my parents should be easy compared to that.”

“Your father didn’t order me shot on sight,” Cass muttered completely unconvinced this was going to go well, “I might be able to handle him. Your mother is who I’m worried about.”

“Dad can’t order you shot on sight. He’s not the head anymore.” 

That didn’t help Castiel’s nerves at all. He gulped as Dean’s parents came into the kitchen, Mary’s smile warm and inviting while John kept his face impassive.   
Dean talked to his parents throughout the meal discussing mostly about what happened during his time on the run. Dean noticed that John stared daggers at the man at his side while Mary seemed thankful. After dinner, the four sat down in the living room and John pounced on Castiel. 

“So you’re the man that sent to kill my son but somehow ended up keeping him alive?” John crossed his arms as he interrogated the man. “Why should we….”

“John,” Mary used her mom voice with a slight tilt of her head, lips tight against her teeth, and a single crease in the skin between her eyebrows. It was her ‘you promise to behave and listen to what they had to say’ glare. “Let him talk.” 

“He tried to kill Dean. Yes he kept him alive but he was sent to kill Dean in the first place.” 

“He saved my life more than once, Dad,” Dean cut in before this turned into a shouting match. “Yes, he was hired to kill me but he didn’t. He’s the reason I’m alive. I forgave him for that part but if he hadn’t, Dad, I don’t think I would have survived the Demons’ ambush.” 

“So you want me to trust him? Up until a month ago, he was a hired assassin and you got shot because of him.” John stood up and paced the length of the room. “He wasn’t raised a hunter. He’s not a Letter. He’s a stranger that tried to kill my oldest son.” 

“Dad, I’m fine. The broken leg at ten took longer to heal than the gunshot.” Dean wanted his father to understand and in time accept Castiel as a part of his new organization. 

“I don’t trust him!” 

“John!” 

“Dad!” 

“Mr. Winchester, I know the circumstances for me entering Dean’s life were not the best or the norm. I am a trained assassin and yes I was hired to kill your son. I didn’t. Something stopped me from killing him and I’m grateful for that. I can’t make up for the beginning but I promise to protect him from now on. I know I can’t change the past but I vow I will not hurt your son." Castiel wasn’t one for impassioned speeches but he couldn’t let Dean’s parents think he was just an assassin focused on his missions. “I killed people I trained, that I considered family. I fought my own people and I did to protect your son. We fought. We argued. I spent most of my life in the Garrison and I completely every mission, I was giving until Dean. I’m glad I failed. All those arguments, the time spent running for my life, it all mattered to me.”  
John glanced over to Mary attentively listened to every word out of the assassin’s mouth. He wasn’t convinced this guy was on the up and up but Mary wanted to give him a chance. He would forgive the way Castiel entered Dean’s life but he would not forget. He wouldn’t trust Castiel right now even though Dean took him as his partner. The assassin would have to prove to John that he wasn’t going to endanger Dean and that would take time. 

“You will have to earn my trust but I will give you a chance.” He stood up with that . “You and I will discuss this later.” 

Mary and Dean shared that ‘he’s going to get over this eventually’ expression. Dean watched his father walk up the stairs and sighed. “I’ll go talk to him. I don’t want this hanging over our heads.” He squeezed Castiel’s hand before he followed his father. 

Castiel rose to leave but Mary stopped him. 

“I thank you for saving my son. I know you were hurt in his defense and you helped him kill Dick Roman and destroy the Levis.” She smiled warmly at that. “But you won’t have to worry about John if you betray Dean. I was a Hunter first and if you hurt my son, you’ll wish you never walked out of the hospital.”   
With Castiel properly threatened, Mary stood up offered her hand. “Welcome to the Winchester Family.”


End file.
